Here we are.

Hmm.

An end of an odyssey, this story has been.

If you've been here since the beginning, you know that I was quite shit and very lax in my grammar and sometimes I wondered if I was just being a bit of a fool but then I hit a bit of a stride, getting better, my imagination flowing from my mind into my fingertips, and here we are.

Somehow.

I'd like to thank you guys for reading my story.

It's not untrue for me to say that you guys made me want to push on to write even when the creative juices were running low (I tend to have fits of long periods of writing more than a consistent one - I blame my wondering mind) so thank you.

As a final note - this is the last chapter of Odyssey but...the Halo era story will begin in the summer next year.

Without further ado...

Please enjoy the closing chapter of this story. Thank you.

10th of September, 1993 – Nevada, United States

A piercing cry echoed in the arid desert, a cry that bore two, eight, twelve different cries within a calling cry, and Atticus smiled to himself as he stared out at the crystal clear skies, his own call to his familiar echoing silently in the spectrum of intertwined magic.

Soon enough he came to see twelve silhouettes in the distance, several larger than the majority, though he only had eyes for one of them.

As they neared, he could see the trailing clouds that exuded with each flap of their wings and the streaks of lightning that discharged from their smaller back wings, riding through the air like Valkyrie chariots of thunder and storm.

When they were a few hundred metres away, they began to slow, their bodies turning vertical, their wings gracefully beating the air into submission and soon enough they all landed right in front of him, their huge forms, their iridescent blue and silver feathers gleaming like priceless gems cut into the shape of feathers as their imperious hawk-eyed eyes bore down at him with a kind of regal authority.

Though none of them could compare to the thunderbird right in front of him, a bird that dwarfed them with her almost six metre height that eyed him intense scrutiny.

Long few moments passed where none of the majestic birds made a single sound, a single movement, until she finally moved towards him, slowly with deliberateness, until finally she crowed softly as she brought her head towards his chest, body, really and Atticus laughed softly as he scratched in a spot behind her crown feathers which elicited a purring crow from the old girl.

"Oh Fila…I've missed you too." Atticus said softly as he closed his eyes and hugged the neck of his familiar who was so large he couldn't wrap his arms around it.

Not long after he'd moved to Illos, Fila and he had come to an agreement, of a sort.

Thunderbirds were never the kind to be caged, to be kept in place.

They were creatures of the skies, born to roam and sail and brew storms wherever they went. They were freedom personified.

And as Fila grew into her own, he had to let her go and be what she was.

A queen of the skies.

He parted from Fila and smiled at the old girl before he looked towards the rest of her brood and his lips twitched at their quizzical looks, no doubt unfamiliar with the way their authoritative mother, grandmother and great grandmother was behaving.

He'd never met her chicks for Thunderbirds turned into some of the most dangerous beings during that time, much more so than they typically could be, and so this was the first time they were meeting him.

Fila turned her gaze towards the birds and squawked a short bark and immediately the birds backed up a little with their heads slightly bowed.

It was fascinating to see the dynamics between Thunderbirds.

Not much had been known about the social dynamics of the beings, before he relocated the bulk of the species to Dexirus where their behaviours in the wild could be studied properly, so watching Fila and her brood was a unique experience.

Thunderbirds were solitary beings for much of their lives but like all intelligent beings, there was a social component to their behaviours though that was largely amongst the female population.

Once they started their own family units, female thunderbirds were connected to their broods and their brood's brood, almost like the way a planetary weather system was connected, and they'd meet once every so often to reaffirm familial bonds.

And, Atticus mused to himself as he watched the interaction between the birds, there was a clear hierarchy in their family units.

The researchers weren't entirely sure yet how a female thunderbird would leave a family unit to form one of her own but thus far the consensus amongst the researchers was that it depended on the strength of the matriarch.

Thunderbirds were creatures of power and no animal nature in nature, even humans, allowed to subject themselves to those who were weaker.

Atticus dropped his smile slightly and the air pressure around them began to drop as his magic rose. The thunderbirds behind Fila stiffened at the sudden change whilst Fila turned towards him, her sharp eyes set upon him.

He could feel their wariness, their sense of danger and he slowly, carefully, sent out feelings of urgency, of importance, of request, through his bond with Fila which he used to connect to the rest of the Thunderbirds.

The birds almost comically tilted their head in question and in surprise at the sudden connection and it made him smile fondly, to feel their surprise yet he did not break concentration as he communicated with them.

It was not words. It was not even images. It was more like when you saw a certain look on your loved ones face, a look that could communicate a thousand words with the faintest expression, with the lightest of muscle twitches.

He expressed to them of what has happened in the world, why magic felt a little different in the past few months, why they had not seen another Thunderbird for the past few years, and he expressed why it was time to leave soon and that he needed their aid.

It caused a stir amongst the birds, especially amongst the younger thunderbirds, who were more prideful and so like Fila when she'd been but a youngling.

Fila however, she kept her eyes on him.

Imperious eyes that seemed to bore down to the bottom of his very soul.

Atticus only solemnly smiled at her, his head slightly bowed at the old girl.

He could feel that the old girl knew whatever was happening…was because of him.

Their familiar bond had never frayed over the years though their bond had, after he'd given her the space to be what she was, become…almost like the bond between an old flame, the one who you could not see for decades yet you could see still feel the love, the memories, between one another from just a second in each other's gaze.

Fila then suddenly broke eye contact and barked at her brood who became silent for a few moments before they all, one by one, barked out in a tone that sounded as if it was agreement.

Fila then turned towards him and sent her agreement through the bond though…that was something more, as if she was requesting something of her own and Atticus reversed the magic to let him understand fully what she wanted.

Atticus' eyebrows raised and after a few seconds, he laughed before a wide smile grew on his face. "I can do that, my old girl." Atticus said softly as he already began to think on how to fulfil his part of the agreement.

Celestis was plenty mountainous enough for him to pick a region to declare belonging to her brood and a few other young and unrelated male thunderbirds.

Atticus raised his hand and in his hand, twelve anklets materialised and he floated them to the thunderbirds. "You will need this. I will use it to send you to Illos and will use it when I call on your aid." Atticus said aloud and through the connection.

The birds eyed the anklets as they neared but they all let the anklets form just above their ankles. The anklets were next generation port-keys that were anchored to Illos for about five astronomical units.

Soon enough, the birds began to take off and Fila…Fila took flight as well though not before she demanded him to scratch that spot behind her crown of feathers.

He watched them go and the smile that had been on his face, faded away. He allowed them to remain soaring in Earth's skies for as long as possible.

With the aid of the thunderbirds secured, he could be assured that the damage he'd cause would be…limited.

Taking control would be difficult, especially since the Earth was not as dead as Celestis was, but it was still possible. Unfortunately, it would leave him spent for days and he could not afford that.

Fila and her brood would bridge the gap, both in terms of wrestling control of the weather system, whilst also requiring him less of his strength to cause the final chapter of this story.

When the birds were distant, almost gone from his sight, his magic twisted within a fraction of a second and he shimmered from where he'd stood back to Charum Tower where he was greeted with Emily, Abraxas Malfoy and a few other people.

Another 'crisis' meeting.

All bar Emily were surprised by his appearance though only moments later Abraxas and the other people stood up from their seats and bowed before him.

"Your Majesty."

"Chief Minister." Atticus acknowledged with a faint smile before he greeted the others and turned towards his wife with a look.

"Abraxas…" Emily voiced out and her old classmate understood perfectly well.

"Of course, Your Majesty." Abraxas said with a bow before he and the others left them.

After he and Emily were left alone, he walked over to her and placed a kiss on her cheek.

Emily smiled as she watched him for a few moments before she asked.

"How is Fila?"

"She looks well. Aging but well." Atticus said as he sat down beside Emily and offered her a faint but loving smile. "She'll be fine after the storm is done."

Emily nodded serenely though a flicker of an amused look came across her face and he knew why she was looking at him like that.

She suspected that him eliciting the aid of Fila was more or less an excuse to work with Fila again, like he had done in his early experiments in Nature magic as a boy because after all, he was allowing the old bird and her brood a lot more leeway than they were allowing the rest of the magical species who were all on board country-ships.

To be fair…

She wasn't entirely wrong.

"So Abraxas has managed to get an agreement then." Atticus stated knowingly as he glanced at the doors through which Abraxas and his aides had left through.

Emily hummed beautifully as she leaned back in her chair. "Yes. As expected. The other country-ships will follow our lead when we remove our invisibility cloak" she said before she eyed him with a wry but knowing look.

"Of course, it will only serve to escalate tensions dramatically."

"Well, when giant spaceships are hovering in the skies, it should be expected." Atticus said a little dryly before he sighed heavily. He wasn't leaving anyone a choice. "But we also can't afford to leave so many behind" Or anyone really.

Earth could not have any current magicals when they left.

"No." Emily agreed as she turned towards him slightly, her face clouding somewhat in darkness. "And even if we for some reason allowed to let the disagreeable fools to stay after we remove the memories of the mundanes, we can't risk the mundanes learning of magic later and then figuring out a way to engineer a biological weapon."

The disagreeable fools being a number of communities and a few other Ministries like the Ministry of India deciding that fighting or suing for a treaty was a better option than leaving like the majority of the magical world has now agreed on.

Even MACUSA, who have permanently moved to New Jackson, have decided to leave when their people still on stateside were attacked.

And after his people assisted MACUSA from fully evacuating from the US and nearby regions, the appetite of tolerating mundanes had gone completely, especially after the media leaks in the mundane world making their way into the magical world, leaks that spoke of concentration camps in Eastern Europe that were used to burn families suspected of witchcraft.

Of course, it was not true and merely the culmination of decades of planning and the use of LAI golems that pervaded throughout the mundane world, but the evidence would hold up under any scrutinised eyes.

That, along with a dozen other plots that worked to heighten the sense of hatred felt from the mundane world, was it any surprise that all across the magical world, regardless of blood status, people were braying at the 'crimes' of the mundanes?

Unfortunately, it seemed that there were still a number of communities and Ministries that proved difficult to crack, those few who were remarkably clingy to their homelands.

Even the native Americans and other secluded native peoples, had been convinced to leave once that the time of mundane and magical co-habitation like yesteryear was impossible.

Unfortunately, for some, reason was not triumphing over sentimentality.

That wasn't to see that they were entirely reasonless.

The actual attacks by mundanes throughout the world against magical enclaves that were exposed, either through treacherous squibborns, opportunistic fools or through chance, were all halted by Federation battlemages, giving them the illusion that they could simply depend on Federation protection whilst things settled down.

Atticus eyed her for a moment before he broke his gaze, looking towards the distance with a shadowed expression. "I doubt they'll manage it any time soon."

Their DNA was beyond what mundane science should be able to attack. It would take centuries, likely millennia, of research and science for them to be capable of it.

The Ancient Humans hadn't managed to complete their research in the alien DNA before their demise and it took her generations of…research to finally find success.

He felt her hand on his hand, no, his fist that had been clenching between them and he turned towards her. She was looking at him seriously, understanding what he was thinking.

She hadn't been pleased either to know that all that they were was owed to the Ancient Humans…in more ways than simply being a consequence of Forerunner folly.

"Soon." Atticus promised her. He'd created a moment in the near future where he'd be able to have moment of reckoning with her.

Emily downturned her lips slightly but she quickly moved past it. She didn't think there was much point in a reckoning, and to tell the truth…there wasn't.

He'd gotten what he wanted from her and he knew all that there was to know but…leaving it like an open injury felt distasteful to him.

He wanted her to know.

"Even if they don't manage for a thousand years" Emily returned back on the topic on hand "They will at the very least be able to track new magicals."

Atticus hummed, the sound rumbling at the back of his throat.

After the stubborn magicals were wiped out, either through murder or through experimentation, they'd turn their eyes to the squibborns.

And that was the greatest of risk with regards to leaving any magicals to the knowledge of the mundanes. It would be easy too. Governments across much of the world could take blood samples of anyone who ever needed a hospital.

In time, when technology was improved, they could be able to determine which bloodlines had the genome sequence of interest and so, squibborns would be there for them to take and twist them into their tools.

Like starving rats fed on peanut butter coated rats, they'd be made to hate and despise anyone not in whatever order they were a part of.

"It's a good thing then that such scenarios won't happen. We will all leave as one people." Atticus said with a wry smile as he rested his head on the back of the sofa.

The consequence of showing how much more advanced the magical world was than the mundane would shock them to the core and when humans were backed into a corner, they can be vicious, especially when it threatened their entire perception of the world and their place in the world.

Like the final dominos in a domino chain, the final pieces will fall as stubbornness made way for practicality and survival. By now, the magical world was well aware of nuclear weapons and the devastation it could do.

"Most of us will leave as one people yes." Emily said with a dark and amused smile as she tilted her head slightly, almost touching the back of the sofa.

Yes…

There were still a few that decided to aid the mundanes against the magical world despite the hatred the mundanes held for them, even in this very moment.

Of course, they were made to be largely impotent, along with the leadership of the mundanes being subtly cursed to disbelieve anything of true importance, and any assistance they'd bring was going to be a moot thing anyway for their betrayal would be wiped out but still…

It was a sore point for many amongst the magical world.

Fortunately, for everyone's sake, the vast majority of squibborns and their families had remained loyal to the magical world, the initiatives and the integration he'd ensured would happen had lessened severely the resentment. Generally speaking.

"It is what it is." Atticus said with a mild smile "They've made their choice."

Not all of them – some were pushed into the choice – but most did.

Could he have ensured that they all didn't have a choice?

Yes.

But their betrayal was useful.

Not only in naturally producing a sense of togetherness amongst the squibborns and the purebloods as it was clear that the mundanes made no such distinctions between them at all, a message they were making sure was understood by everyone, but also by weeding out some of the more zealous amongst them.

Those who would be problematic in the era they'd build, those that they couldn't weed out through legitimate poltical manoeuvring and scandals.

Emily hummed.

"We're almost there." Emily said, recapturing his attentions and he smiled at her before he nodded. Yes…they were almost catching up to his, their future.

Memories of baby booms that would last for decades, memories of building after building being raised around the country-ships, memories of discovery and invention, memories of peace for as far as he could See…

Atticus closed his eyes as he placed his other hand on top of her.

"Yes…we're nearly there."

-Break-

20th of September, 1993 – Washington D.C.

Jason M. Lafides POV

He quickly walked through the hotel plaza, face set in stone, his eyes scanning his surroundings.

The hotel was busy, as it has been for weeks now.

Every news outlet worth their salt had a presence in Washington at present and every set of eyes that knew even the faintest thing about the affairs of the world was gazing upon a television, eagerly consuming content, news bites, reports.

It was a gluttonous feast for the media and there was no telling of when it would stop, just as they wanted.

The world had come to know of the insidiousness that hid in the crevices of the world, these creatures who hid in the shadows and defiled them and sundered their memories and so much more!

True and false interviews were given, pictures in forgotten photo albums were circulated as talks of kidnapped children entered the public consciousness 'Your kids could be next!'.

Some creatures that disappeared even came forward in the past few weeks claiming them to be the stolen children though he never paid it much attention, considering them to be irrelevant – and problematic – in the grand scheme of things.

Unfortunately, they couldn't just get rid of them and the government knew that too, instead, last he heard, using them to figure out where the heck they could find damn creatures and how to create weapons against their magic.

In any case…before this and all the rest of the shit contributed to muddy up the situation, things had been going so damn well.

The furore had never been greater, not even during the height of the cold war.

It was marvellous.

Outrage was near universal amongst most of the world and protests had sprung all across Europe with Italy and Spain righteous and furious in their protestations.

Though…he thought with a faint internal grimace. It had to be said that in some countries the situation was more…delicate.

From Eastern Europe to the Near East, demands of the people were levied onto their governments to follow America's steps and strike at the creatures, often times descending into riots demanding new concentration camps to be set up whilst in many parts in Asia and Africa, the situation had devolved into near anarchy or actual anarchy.

His grimace began to show on his face as he remembered the reports of sectarianism and tribal influenced attacks in places in Africa whilst the Palestinian and Israeli conflict was heating up even more as extremist imams were declaring all Jews witches in cohort with the Devil.

And in Africa, there were warlords who were using the chaos to rally people to their causes, painting entire populations as 'spawn of the devils'.

He'd thought that this could have been a uniting event, to unite humanity in, well, humanity, yet people were using it as an excuse to basically fuck everything up!

It was bad news on top bad news.

His hands clenched.

To say it has not been as they had envisaged would be saying it lightly.

No, it was fucking far from the way they hoped it would unravel out.

Even in America. Especially in America.

They'd started well. Initially. They'd known most if not all of the wizarding settlements and their centres of government.

They'd known the location of this MACUSA building and they'd caught the demons unawares with their attack that destroyed most of it.

It had signalled the beginning of the campaign and one by one, the military attacked the settlements but after the first day – it all went to fucking shit.

First those Studpoole children disappeared and after the first waves of attacks against the settlements, the settlements were abandoned, turning into damn ghost towns, no hide or sight could be found of the creatures until, days later, they fucking attacked!

The helicopters, the jets, even the fucking tanks that were sent to these places were destroyed and the military bases nearby the settlements were all wiped out.

Thousands of soldiers had died.

To say it was a catastrophe would be a god damned understatement.

And as sudden as their attacks had come, they were gone and there hasn't been a damn sight of them!

Some of the organisation believed that they went into hiding, almost crowing in victory at the thought but he and others knew that it was a terrible situation for they knew the kinds of evil the creatures were capable of.

They could appear anywhere, anytime, and the longer they had no sight of them, the worst the situation would get.

As he walked past the hotel lobby, towards the VIP bar after he'd been passed through, his eyes had caught sight of one of the televisions that was hung on one of the pillars of the bar.

He could already tell that it was the report of this morning, about the Indian Prime Minister and the fool's talk with this supposed Minister of Magic.

The Indians – and the Spanish – governments had been approached by the creatures and continued to talk with the creatures despite the pressure the governments were facing from the public and other governments and religious figures.

A sneer formed on his face.

Undoubtedly they were spelled into compliance – he believed the traitor creatures who checked them over to be lying – and it wouldn't be long before actions would be taken to rescue the poor fools.

As he walked through the bar, quieter and far less crowded with the common rabble, he made his way towards the always reserved seat at the back on the second floor.

He could already see his old friend waiting on him and he signalled the waitress his usual drink before he walked up the stairs.

"Jackson" Jason grumbled out as he took his seat and took hold of the glass of brandy that had sat waiting for him. He took a long swill of the drink before he sat back up and eyed the man. "Any news?"

"Good to see you as well, my friend." Jackson said drily before he drank of his gin and tonic.

Jason grimaced "Apologies. It's been…tense."

Jackson placed his glass back onto the table, a mocking smile on his face "That's a bug that going around, alright." The mocking smile fell as he spoke further.

"There is hardly any new news…only further consideration that these country-ships the turncoat creatures talk about may not be so false."

Jason's jaw slackened "What?!" he exclaimed before he got control over himself and he leaned forward "The President is considering it to be true?!" he demanded in a quieter tone.

He couldn't believe that the President was falling for the ruse by these creatures.

"I believe them too." Jackson said grimly and he looked at the man betrayed.

Jackson gestured his hand tiredly "The simplest explanation is often the right explanation." Jackson said to him before continuing "We've heard it from Studpoole, we are hearing it from the very mouths of creatures overseas and we're hearing it from the American" Jackson mockingly elucidated "creatures."

Jackson thinned his lips for a moment before adding "I think we are playing it dangerous by ignoring it further." Jackson brought back the glass to his lips.

"We've underestimated the creatures for centuries before. Doing it now when they're under attack is folly." Jackson said before he threw back the drink.

Jason sat there for a long while, brimming with anger. And fear. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't. The thought that these creatures had ships the size of fucking Hawaii was unthinkable. Obscene.

"They're agents." Jason said finally, his voice quiet but anger laden. He met Jackson gaze "They are deceiving us. Like that damn witch." After that Studpoole bitch made her confession on live television, she'd disappeared completely and so did her children before they even could do anything about it.

He was sure that she'd been making a lie when she was supposedly warning about this Illos and their capabilities. And the lies about them being capable of travelling to other planets?! Pah, it was clear that the creatures were lying their asses off.

The creatures they'd previously tortured to death had never said anything about matters like that. Not ever.

"My friend…" Jackson sighed heavily "I agree, they are deceiving us." Jackson looked at him intently "Do you take me or our government for fools? For crying out loud, these supposed friendly creatures are claiming their kind have gone to other planets outside of our solar system!"

Jackson sneered "If they think we truly believe them about their betrayal of their kind, they are greater fools than the Democrats who want to make a peace deal with them, not when they refuse to swear these unbreakable vows of loyalty."

Apparently swearing such vows was too dangerous for them to do as even the slightest hesitancy would kill them. Not that he would have trusted it anyway.

They had no incentives to coerce them, in ways like they did to Studpoole, into making sure that they aren't creating some false light to pull the wool of their eyes.

Jackson circled his glass as he paused "But I think this part of theirs is at least true…" Jackson raised his hand to forestall him and Jason sat back in frustration.

Jackson made a gesture of peace before he continued.

"But I also think they are inflating these so called country-ships. The government is sure that these country-ships are a fraction of their so called size. Our satellites have been searching for these so called country-ships and we've found nothing and you know that we haven't failed to corroborate locations with our satellites. Their magic can't hide them when we know where to look."

He considered that for a moment. "That…that makes sense."

Jackson nodded approvingly before he grimaced "Of course, it doesn't make it easy to find them." Jackson eyed Jason carefully "Some in Washington are even pushing to 'pretend' to find them and let the situation lie given the chaos the situation is having with the economy." Jackson grimaced further. "And society in general."

Jason gritted his teeth before he forcefully relaxed. It was true that the economy was suffering a mild shock but it was soon fade away. The markets were overreacting about the situation.

As for society…well, he'd always though they needed a kick up the ass. People needed to see that this was a war for their very souls.

"At the moment, those voices are falling on deaf ears and we're doing our best to make sure that the creatures are not influencing the government with their lies and their heathen gifts."

Jason nodded somewhat mollified.

Jackson eyed him carefully "What about news from our hunters?"

"Nothing new on that front." Jason said before he finished his drink. Fortunately, the waitress brought over his refreshment glass.

There was nothing substantial in the reports that their hunters were sent to investigate. There have been a few isolated witch burnings but in most instances it was nutcases burning other nutcases and the few other cases were undeterminable.

To be truthful, he didn't think the hunters would catch any further, much to his displeasure and disappointment.

The secret was out and their best method of attack was with the veil of secrecy.

Now that that was gone, the damn creatures were free to just teleport away!

God, why did things have to be so difficult?!

He wished they'd made headway in their technology to prevent the damn creatures from escaping and their research on how to find them but all of that was not going to be feasible for years to come. He grimaced internally as his expression darkened slightly. That was also what they said years ago as well. 'A few years away…'

His thoughts were interrupted when the sound of glass breaking and he turned towards the sound and saw the waitress and some at the bar staring at the television.

"What's happening?" Jason asked and Jackson stood up and walked towards the railing.

"I don't know…" Jackson said with a frown in his voice before he made his way down the stairs. Jason stood up and frowned heavily as he stared at the situation.

He couldn't quite see what the television was showing and grudgingly followed Jackson down the stairs.

The noise within the bar was rising and by the time he reached the ground floor, someone had demanded silence and the volume to be raised.

He could the reporter speaking though the image…

His eyes widened as he walked closer to the television and as the voices on the television was loud enough to be heard.

"My god…" Jackson made out whilst for Jason…for Jason his voice had died at the back of his throat though his ears still worked, mercifully.

The reporter said that out of nowhere, the object, measured at almost twenty-five kilometres, appeared in the Baltic Sea, not far from Lithuania, apparently less than an hour ago.

Russian fighter jets were whizzing around as the reporter explained that all types of communication was fruitless though she said that rumours are rife that these objects may well be magical in nature.

The news then cut to videos from other parts of the world which showed the same type of egg-shaped object. "Country-ships." Jason managed to say.

Merciful God…they were wrong…so, so wrong.

And Jackson turned to him, pale-faced "It seems like we were all wron-"

A cry from the crowd drew their eyes back to the screen and time almost seemed to stop as they watched a missile race towards the Lithuanian country-ship and Jason shielded his eyes when a bright white flash suddenly appeared though not long after it turned to black.

"They used a nuke" someone from the crowd said hysterically and that was the moment that all hell broke loose.

And fear…

Fear crept in the centre of his core for he realised that things went from shit to utterly fucked.

-Break-

24th of September, 1993 – Nearby the Inishkea Islands

Moira POV

Waves crashed into the cold lonely rocks below, the smell of salty sea hovering around her in a mixture of misty scents and dusty foams, a mixture that shone under the subdued light of the sun with a foggy haze, yet, that haze, that fogginess, was a blanket akin to thin film, never quite managing to haze her sight of the horizon that bore islands and ocean, a horizon that marked so much of her life and her humans.

And a horizon she'd never see again.

She almost closed her eyes as she listened to the crashing waves, sounds that repeated, sounds that deepened and lessened, yet always, always, they crashed a little further, a little more than the last trillionth trillionth time.

"I thought I'd find you here."

His voice, his words, came quickly and suddenly, out of nowhere without expectation, like how the winds could turn and twist on grey august days.

He came to stand slightly in front of her, not quite beside her, not anymore, such days had long past, and longer past still been the days that he'd stood behind her, learning with eager yet distrustful eyes.

Now, he stood with a quiet surety that rang with fortitude, that reminded her so much of the Lord Admiral, when he'd been all that had stood between their last worlds, and then, later, their only world, their citadel, against the vengeful Forerunners.

She turned away her gaze from him and returned back towards the islands.

Would he be a better bastion than the greatest of them all?

Had they done enough?

Created enough gusts of air to cause the flaps of butterflies to flap this way, or that way, just enough to cascade into change, into cascading into a singularity that would end the perpetual cycle?

Only infernal time would tell, and only time would tell if the rewritten fate would prove to be kinder to the man and his people, chosen by their revengeful forbearers and her daughter, to lead themselves into eternity.

"When I awoke, there was ocean as far as the eye could see." She began, her voice calm as she spoke in the Illosian Latin, a language that was already beginning to deviate from its parent language as loan words and accents took hold in the public sphere. Letters were softer and words flowed easier off of the tongue.

"You awoke during one of the interglacial periods." Atticus stated more than questioned. She glanced at him and saw him still looking towards the islands.

"Yes. Global temperatures were warmer than this era." The era had been one of the warmest periods this world has seen for many hundreds of thousands of years.

The entrance to her exile, during the worst of weathers, was often overflown with seawater. Sea levels during that era had been more than sixty meters than what they were now with glaciers only reaching sixty degrees north during winter.

Atticus finally turned towards him, his youthful face crinkling with hints of genuine sympathy "Must have been difficult to come to face. The loneliness." Atticus sighed silently, softly, as he once more gazed away from her, as he spoke still…

"The abandonment. More so later when you came across the primitive descendants of your people. Primitives whom your people left in your charge."

The words were said softly yet they carried a knowing accusation, an indictment of her people who demanded much of her, too much, intractable demands she could not refuse, impossibly could not turn away from.

She'd been out of rage centuries before she was betrayed by her mother.

World after world, billions after billions, friends and family…

One could only rage for so long until it hollowed you out.

Like stars burning through its fuel until they collapsed into themselves, loss was burned through until loss lost its meaning and with the loss of loss came morbid acceptance of one's fate, of one's inevitable and looming end.

But despair?

That was special. Despair came from helplessness, of victimhood, and even when they'd been pushed all the way to just a few systems out of thousands, millions, she never felt its decrepit touch, not even once.

The defeat at the hands of the Forerunners had never wrung that out of her, and neither did the Parasites whom she felt disgust for and absolute hatred towards, Parasites who revelled in eternal desolation, revelled in subjecting eternal torment.

Yet…

She came to taste despair when she'd awoken in sterile whiteness, in absolute silence broken only by the soft near silent thrum of Sparkly Dawn's anti-grav engines, and ever more so when she stood on the lonely rocks and breathed in the air of the cradle.

Despair had come then.

Despair had come with the scents of fresh salty air and loneliness came with the warm rays of the lone sun.

Her people had abandoned her to a lonely mission.

A lonely mission that she could not refuse, for she had no one to refuse to.

A lonely mission that she had no choice but to accept when she'd seen the remnants of her people bearing sharpened sticks and tools of stone, cast so low, shattered so utterly so, a great weight of loneliness and despair that painfully wrapped around her ankles yet could only feel light in the face of responsibility, of duty, of anguish.

Contradiction. Twilight. That was the path she was made to follow.

And she followed it utterly so.

She turned her dark eyes towards him, watching him intently as he gazed away from her. "You have broken through my mind" she only stated, her mind having already come to that conclusion from the way he spoke of how she must have felt.

The familiarity. The knowing sympathy.

She was neither surprised or angry with the violation, expected as it was. She knew that eventually her secrets, the secrets of her people would prove irresistible to the ravenous curiosity of the man before her, a curiosity made him the man he was.

As expected of her daughter's chosen vessel for victory.

"One of me broke through your mind…yes." Atticus said quietly, softly, imperiously, still facing away from her, and she understood it was not because of guilt, remorse, no…it was the kind of gesture a man in peace with himself makes.

He knew her secrets, all of them, forcibly taken, likely having killed her in the process in that timeline…in that universe…

"Have you ever cared about this place?" Atticus asked her suddenly and she understood it to mean more than just this lonely rock, more than the Irish lands that once boasted people who worshipped her for centuries thousands of years ago.

"At times." She admitted. This world…these people…at times, they had captured her attentions and in some very few instances, inspired a sense of admiration in her.

The Atlanteans for one. The people who descended from the tribes she'd elevated.

She'd seen the recordings of hunter gatherers around the mountains of Morocco slowly grow into communities, the gifts of neurophysical energy passing down generation after generation until all of the humans in the tribes could manipulate neurophysical energy.

She'd wake from her cryo-sleep and watch their progress over centuries, watching them slowly exploring their powers, build their knowledge, until they united and all moved towards an island created in the Atlantic that would, over three thousand years, become one of the greatest civilisations this world has seen to this date.

They'd been a marvel, and any other civilisation that had formed from nothing paled in comparison, for these tribes had been beyond remarkable. They created life with nothing but neurophysical energy, human-like life, animals who represented aspects, even delving into immortality.

It had been a shame to destroy them.

She did not regret the act, for the Atlanteans were a hundred fold more arrogant than they were impressive, and they were most impressive.

Their people had already set foot on every continent, having met every peoples – some of whom left genetic legacies in those distant parts of the world – and had come to know how superior they were to all other humans on the world.

And the worship of the prehistoric humans had only increased that sense of superiority. And yet…that was not cause for intervention.

After all, she'd hoped that with time, with growing civilizational maturity, they'd develop out of their dichotomous primitive yet advanced civilisation.

And so, if that superiority had been all, she would not have acted.

Unfortunately, it was not and it caused her to extend out her duty by thousands of years, to wait for a worthy civilisation to pass down her legacy

She might not have had a deep connection to Living Time as the Perceivers had or her daughter, but her intuition and her technology could formulise enough that their existence could not be hidden if they kept reaching beyond their understanding.

Experimenting with Dimension and Time with neurophysical energy, for the purpose of elevating Atlantis and Atlanteans into pseudo godhood, that was something that have drawn unwanted attentions well before it was time.

Already, she'd suspected that the existence of the Atlanteans would have drawn their attentions – she remembered the reports of once inactive Precursor structures reacting to the presence of the Parasites – and these experiments would have made it a certainty.

Despite it all, killing the majority of the Atlanteans was still a sore point. Not only had it extended her duty, she and Sparkly Dawn also never determined if the Atlanteans would have been successful.

Regardless, she doubted they'd have enjoyed 'godhood' for long, given what she was later told by her daughter, who could traverse Living Time to the ends of Time.

Her daughter had felt the manipulations of Fate by the Precursors.

Subtle. Quiet. But forever there. Forever in the shadows, in the crevices.

The Precursors knew of the Neurophysical Energy manipulating humans and were manipulating Fate to end their existence in time, with time.

it was almost certain that the Precursors would have taken a more direct intervention should the Atlanteans managed to succeed in their experiments.

Atlantis dying had been necessary and it was what allowed this future to come into existence, a future that would gift these humans the best chance of standing against the Precursors. Regardless if they were in their Parasite form or their original form.

"Do you ever weep at what you have done to those poor beings?" He drew her out of her though, and she could hear that there was no accusation in his voice, nor was it flat, instead it was solemn curiosity.

Flashes of prehistoric humans in their few moments of lucidity weeping, crying, begging, cut across the forefront of her mind, unable to comprehend the ire of Gods.

Simply…unable…

Truly…they were nought but pitiful facsimiles, pitiful replications, a mockery created by the Librarian and her ilk who thought to save them when instead they destroyed them more than extinction ever could.

And they were still such pitiful creatures…pale shadows of those who'd shone so brightly, so, so, brightly, that their flames burnt out long before their time was due…

And tampering with the genetics of these prehistoric humans with the aim of restoring the genetic legacy of her people proved to be impossible.

The Forerunners had destroyed too many and key genetic drifts for her and Sparkly Dawn to restore these humans to what their ancestors had been. There was not enough data left to run combinatory simulations and her own DNA was far too ancient, far too mixed with genetic history to try and piece the pieces together.

And so…

Too much was lost…for these humans…for her…for her people.

So much of their heritage, their triumphs, their defeats, their dead ends, their potential, a genetic legacy irreparably lost.

The manipulations of the Librarian, to guide genetic outcomes, was nothing but pale shadow of what her people once were…what they were once destined to reach.

They were meant to be Gods but instead were turned into less than myths…

Truly…the Librarian was a greater enemy than the Didact ever was…

It was a marvellous form of insidious revenge…

They'd be so close…back then.

Before the Perceivers determined victory against both the Parasites and the Forerunners was impossible, that they needed another plan, another way to live.

It only took her and Sparkly Dawn eight centuries to see the right combination of genetic research, the right combinations of genetic strings, to have genes responsible for neurophysical energy manipulation take in the DNA of prehistoric humans.

And it haunted her to know that it was possible for it to be replicated in her people.

And so…

Was there any doubt that she'd delight in sundering the Librarian's legacy…?

A delight that she was seeing pay off right before her eyes as she met his gaze.

Humans with a genetic legacy that had the best of the Precursors, and the potential to surpass them with Time, a chance to put the true Mantle into the hands of humans.

Even if they were still only imitations of her people.

Her people had won, in the end.

A bitter victory. A hollow victory. But a victory nonetheless.

And, if she was right in her conclusions, the Librarian would even see the rest of the humans veered off of the guided genetic outcome irreparably.

"No" she answered honestly as she turned towards the same horizon Atticus looking towards. "Not when it has created the tools of my people's victory."

Not when she ensured the destiny her people could have reached in this second iteration of humanity, even if they were but imitations in almost every other way.

Still, they were living echoes, as close as could be, would be, and were an echo of her people's fury, rage, an echo of a destiny denied, lost, a destiny restored, returned…a destiny that showed what could have been…what should have been…

Atticus only hummed softly before he answered with a simple "Tools…that is always what we have been for you." It was said without judgement. Though what he said next did bear judgement of a kind. "Just as Seth and your children had been."

She narrowed her eyes at that but before she could answer he continued with a fixed look "Do not deny it. You came to care for them, eventually, but you wished to see the results of a genetic mixture between your branch of humanity and one of mine."

One of hers and Sparkly Dawn's simulations had promised viable and incredible progeny should there be a mix of her DNA and one of the matured bloodlines that retained some of their Atlantean heritage.

Unfortunately, all of their laboratory experiments failed, without fault, as magic simply would not take.

Atticus turned towards her more, the fixed look in his expression relaxing slightly despite the topic. "After all, magical children are impossibly difficult to conceive through any means other than natural."

They'd come to that conclusion eventually and it took her several cycles of cryo-sleep to accept the theory as certain fact.

As different as the three human species were, they were still similar enough for progeny to be produced.

"I remember one of our earlier conversations…before I knew anything at all." Atticus smiled faintly to himself as he sighed slightly.

"I was such a child back then"

He looked back up to meet her gaze "It was an inconsequential conversation, one where we discussed the childhoods of your children."

"I remember" she answered.

It was one where she'd hinted that she'd been testing her children on concepts that children of her people would learn at their age.

She had not mentioned it then, though she expected him to know it now, after having seen the pilfered memories of her by his alternate self, but she'd been…disappointed to see that even with her genetics that it was not enough for them to raise their intellect to that of her people.

Of course, they were smarter, much smarter than their father and the rest of their kind, and it showed in their ability to manipulate neurophysical energy, but the quick grasping of theories and intuition for slipspace and dimensional mechanics that almost all of her people were able to do at such young ages, was not there.

It was an inherent genetic trait in her people and it was what allowed them to quickly catch up to the Forerunners despite being millions of years younger.

The closest that humans of this world would understand it would be Savant Syndrome though that was a disorder whereas this trait of theirs was as genetic as colour of eyes or hair colour could be.

And her children, all three of them, did not inherit such an important facet of her people.

"It was at that point that you decided that we were never going to be anything like what your people had once been...even us…your creation." Atticus smiled at her and it was an odd smile, as if he were smiling at a shared joke.

"Your daughter realised this, you know." Atticus said, surprising her greatly.

"She could not have" she denied harshly before she peered at him intently "And not even with all of your talents could ever possibly know such a thing."

Atticus laughed and it was almost cruel. He looked at her pointedly "I can't see the past but I saw your memories. Even from a young age, your daughter had a deep connection with Living Time" Atticus smiled and it was unkind.

"I know what it looks like when someone is traversing Living Time and your daughter…your daughter had been doing it as a six year old." Atticus tilted his head as he studied her. "Compare it." He said to her, his eyes boring into her.

"Compare all those moments of her oddness as a child to the moments you witnessed her use her abilities decades later."

She turned back to her memories, back to her interactions with her daughter and she realised that it was…unusual. She'd chalked off as a quirk, a result of two different species of human mixing but now…

"Your daughter knew what her mother was." Atticus continued as his gaze bored down at her "What her mother would do if she was unremarkable." Atticus placed his arms behind his back as he continued his assaulting words.

For the first time in a long time, her face crinkled in pain.

She'd been so disappointed in both of the human species and their development, especially after Atlantis. She expected so much more.

And yet they never even got close to that level of sophistication.

And her children bore much of that disappointment.

Though…she had thought that none of them had witnessed that disappointment. And the seeds of doubt were growing stronger the more she reeled through her memories.

Her daughter…her daughter was careful around her. Perfect in almost every way.

She no longer thought it possible that her daughter knew of her more…destructive ways of extricating herself from the familial situation.

She swallowed slightly. Yes…she realised…her daughter could have known.

Atticus nodded slightly, as if he understood her internal dialogue.

He continued "Your daughter knew…it is why you learned that she had a connection with Living Time at precisely the moment you learnt it. It is also why you came to know that there was a future worthy of leaving behind the legacy of your people too"

"She knew that I was thinking of abandoning this world." The point about what she'd do to her children was left unsaid but he understood it nonetheless.

After so long…after carrying out her duty for eons, she was simply…tired.

She saw nothing of her people in these humans through the eons. Even within the neurophysical energy manipulating humans. Even her children.

Her children being so unalike to her drove her to her lowest point.

She'd been ready to leave them to their fate.

Ready to leave them unprepared, unknowing, of all the dangers that existed in the universe. The Perceivers had prophesized that the second iteration of humanity was how they'd survive and she'd done her duty by gifting them what her own people had not been able to have.

And it was only her daughter's talents…her prophetic words, words that had scratched at her very core, words that were so, so similar to the Perceivers, that changed her mind.

That made her stay.

'What was two thousand years compared to vindication for you…for your people?'

Her daughter had convinced her to stay just a little while longer, long enough for her to see the culmination of her daughter's work, work that preserved not only her kind but also to recreate the balance of Living Time like no other species had done before.

All of which accrued to date to the very moment that she was called upon by this man before her decades ago.

That very day had been the very day that solidified her decision to leave behind her legacy to her daughter's branch of humanity.

That day had been when she finally tasted relief.

She took away her gaze from Atticus' and turned towards the skies. A primitive act but she felt like it was poignant. Her daughter…

"Why?" she asked quietly, her gaze still on the skies. "Why tell me this now?"

"I sympathise with you. I have seen your memories…your despair…the destruction of your people…but...despite all of that…I wanted you to understand that what we will achieve will not be because of you or your people. No. No, it will be because of the actions of past generations of our kind. Actions like those of your daughter."

She turned her gaze towards him and saw him looking at her with cold eyes.

Cold eyes that bore cords of steel in this belief of his.

She understood what he meant.

Whilst his people used her people's technology and their sciences, they were far from simply copying them. They were bridging neurophysical energy with science, creating something entirely new.

They are new.

Not imitations.

Not vengeance.

But their own people.

Their own civilisation.

Their own saga.

She stared at him for a long few moments before she nodded, her face twisting into a kind smile. "I can see that now" she said softly. "I think my daughter saw the same"

Her daughter…

She'd once thought that her daughter was working in concert with her, to prepare the humans of this world against her people's enemies but now…

Now she realised that perhaps was only part of it.

"Your daughter was the very best of our peoples." Atticus said, this time quieter, with hints of pride and deep admiration. "I would have liked to meet her."

She peeled her gaze away from him. "You will. In some form. One day" she said quietly, almost to herself, her thoughts on distant things.

Would they still welcome her? Once she passed into the Domain?

She'd been somewhat involved in Emily and Atticus' experiments and theorisation of the Domain, that Essences likely existed there largely still intact.

There was something within the Domain that made it difficult to fully interact with the deceased but that once you were there, such boundaries did not truly exist.

That a form of you, at least would exist there.

"I do not think they would turn you away." Atticus said and she realised her inner thoughts must have been showing on her face. Truly, she must be unsettled.

She turned to him and she saw him looking towards the horizon. "Families can be strange like that. Your daughter knew what you were. What you were close to doing. Yet she worked to change your mind and I largely think it was because the love she bore for you…knowing as she did how important your people were…are to you."

He glanced slightly at her. "I, or someone else like me, would still have been able to create portals that could open up travel faster than light without your science. From there, with dedicated research and development, creating a sequential wormhole drive is feasible." Atticus turned back towards the horizon, a kind smile on his face.

"Yet your daughter chose to do it this way…a path that allows you to see us as worthy to leave the legacy of your people to us."

She realised her eyes were turning wet.

Her daughter…

"She was right" she finally said after a long few minutes.

"You are not my people nor were you ever meant to be" and…and she was fine with it. The time of her people had come and gone and having this iteration of humanity become her people's successors was not completely…disappointing.

"No." Atticus said with a faint smile that she could see even if he was facing away from her. "But even though time has weathered away at the rocks, and earthquakes has broken apart the mountains…"

"The rocks are still the same rocks even if they are smaller, or larger, or broken" she said with a faint smile, with drying eyes.

Atticus' smile deepened as he hummed softly.

"Just so", a simple, short sentence that bore licks of melancholy underneath the waves of comprehension that eked out of him in voluminous quantities…

Long moments of silence passed and she considered if it would be her last.

This conversation had the bells of absolution.

And…all that she knew, he knew, all that her people knew, his people would come to know in the centuries to come.

She was of no further use, to Atticus or his people.

She found that as liberating as she found it…saddening.

Her desires to come to rest warred with her desires of seeing as much as of the future her daughter had hoped to build, of seeing the future Atticus would carve out.

"Will you kill you me now?"

There was a long lull of silence.

"You have already concluded that I will not" Atticus said as he glanced at her with an amused smile and a raised eyebrow.

"Though I do not know why. Not for certain" she tilted her head slightly. "My relationship with your mother would not stay your hand if you decided so."

If he had her memories, he also knew that her relationship with Anne was one of comfort, not one of substantial affection like both branches of humanity could feel for their spouses. Anne had been an opportunity she did not deny.

Anne was attractive, in a simple sort of way.

Aesthetically pleasing, eager to please and whilst she was submissive in most ways, she had bouts of fiery surprises that made her less dull than others of her kind.

As a widow who did not need emotional support she was unable to give and as someone who could understand her a little, for Atticus would not allow her unfettered contact with others, Anne was the best choice available to satiate her needs.

Atticus nodded slightly "Yes. And magic knows that once upon a time I would have done so but…" Atticus shrugged lightly as he turned away from her eyes.

"I see no point in killing you. Dislike and annoyance is not reason enough to kill you." He paused for a seconds before continuing

"And your crimes…are ancient and I have done crimes as deplorable if not more so. It would be hypocritical of me to condemn another so alike me."

His words were soft, quiet but she did not struggle to hear them.

"It is a beautiful day, isn't it?" he asked after some time.

She considered it for a few moments as she took a long glance at the horizon.

"Yes...yes it is."

She saw him smile gently and after a few minutes he spoke one more time.

"Let me know when you want to return." Atticus said as he continued to stare out at the ocean with his arms behind his back and she watched him for a long few moments before she turned her gaze towards the peaceful horizon.

She wouldn't ask to return for almost an hour.

-Break-

30th of September, 1993 – Federal Assembly, Illos

Abraxas Malfoy POV

Abraxas sat behind Senator Prewitt, watching the proceeding with a careful gaze.

The last few days had been hectic, the shock of the muggles using their disgusting weapon had worn off and the raw anger had been…satisfying.

The Federal Assembly had agreed to the proposal he had championed, that they should stop hiding and show their might before the muggles who thought they could attack their kind with impunity yet most of them hadn't even contemplated that the muggles would go as far as attacking their country-ships with nuclear weapons without as much as by-your-leave.

To be truthful, the fact that it happened in just an hour had surprised him as well.

It reminded everyone of the visceral hate the muggles had for them.

Fortunately, the muggle weaponry was as impotent as the lack wits themselves and the Yggdrasil had been unharmed. The ward-array had withstood the fiery and dirty explosive muggle weaponry without much trouble.

Abraxas glanced at the oval windows at the far side, and from his position he could just about see the starry blackness.

After the attack, within hours the decision had been made to guide the country-ships outside of the atmosphere and into orbit and the decision to counter-attack had been unanimous.

Over the course of the decades, Illos kept a close eye on those installations and their nuclear capable submarines as a matter of simple survival, and later the Federal Assembly had taken over that responsibility.

They knew the location of every single one of the tens of thousands dirty weapons and in the immediate hours after the attack, the Illosian Guard and IO worked with their equivalents in the Council of Five to disarm the muggles before they blew themselves up like the self-destructive fools they were.

Nuclear materials were destroyed within their missiles and bombs whilst they swept up across the numerous facilities across the world that were capable of producing more and the consequence of those actions has had a far greater impact on the muggles than the bomb the Russians used across a densely populated muggle population.

They were finally understanding what exactly they were dealing with and like animals who have come to face a greater predator than themselves, they were growling in fear and panic and some of the traitors that thrown their lot with the filth had met their deserved ends at the muggle's hands.

Unfortunately, not all of them did and instead some of the wiser muggles like the American muggles were more…appreciative now of magic.

Abraxas thinned his lips.

His and Her Majesties were deliberately ensuring that the traitors were free and breathing. That much was not difficult to come to conclude to.

Those who did not know them well and the true capabilities of the Office of Far-Sight – the obfuscation of the Office's purpose helped in that regard – would think that all of this…chaos was unforeseen.

The vast majority of the population of the magical world fell into that category though there were pockets, including in Avalon, that believed that this was entirely their fault.

It was ironic that they were entirely right.

Unfortunately for them, they faced an opponent that knew them better than they knew themselves, and that knew exactly what they would do and why and when they'd do it.

In the face of that, what could they do? What could anyone do?

Was it any surprise their reputations were gone and their words akin to something to be mocked and derided like the words of the fool in the local tavern?

In truth, Abraxas believed that most of those fools were wilfully blind, he thought as he gazed upon the starry blackness, blind to see where they were…where they were going.

Abraxas had long been an appreciator of history.

A consequence of a childhood spent feeling…inadequate in comparison to the proud company that he kept who bore storied ancestries dating back a thousand or longer years back.

He'd been enamoured by the Wizard-Kings of the Levant and the Crescent, the mage-priests of Egypt, the Oracles of Greece and of course the near mythological Atlanteans who once stood as unassailable Emperors of the Earth.

And this era that they lived in? This era in which they took upon the stars like their ancient ancestors had done to the sea?

Setting on distant planets as if they were mere oceans to cross?

This was a period of history greater than any other and they were all living legends and he personally prided himself on the fact that he'd elevated House Malfoy as an equal to Ancient Houses and his son and grandson would continue that legacy.

Their grimoires and their journals, squibborn and pureblood alike, will all narrate down this saga of their bloodlines and it will be a point of pride of all of their descendants millennia from now.

These fools, these detractors, were blind to this.

Blind by the fact they were all living in momentous history.

But they would not be always.

After they set foot on Celestis or in the other planets in the Celestis system, after they eat the bread after harvest and the livestock who have grown and died on those fields, and after they are reminded each night of the different stars that they sleep under, they will come to this realisation…

And they will claim they had always supported their Majesties.

Abraxas smirked slightly.

After all, no one liked to be proven wrong, to be wrong, and their personal histories will be rewritten accordingly.

And, he imagined, they'll be allowed to, despite his irritation at it.

He was magnanimous enough to accept it as such.

He returned his gaze to the proceedings as it began.

"Honoured Senators and guests" the Speaker of the Senate began, his voice aged yet authoritative, and the elderly Incan Speaker continued after he'd commanded the room to pay him full attention.

It was not hard to pay him that attention for it was not only because of his position as the one who directed the Senate proceedings that commanded it.

No, the man himself commanded respect.

The Incan, Amauta of House Chimuyni, was over two hundred years old, old enough to feel the impact of the Statute Wars. His people had been devastated by the Statute Wars though it was under his guidance that his people recovered despite the challenges the man faced.

Despite the Spanish and the Portuguese heavy handed – which was incredibly opportunistic in the wake of their muggle counterpart exploitation of the Americas – approach to his people and the people of his surroundings, which should have inspired hatred like it did amongst many of the other native magicals of the region, he instead managed to broker a kind of peace with a faction of the Spanish settlers after several generations of tit-for-tat attacks and raids.

A peace that saw the Western regions of South America stabilise for the most part and guided the integration of different clans and tribes into the wider magical world with a fortitude and persuasiveness that even Abraxas had to respect and admire.

"As we find ourselves precipitously gathered to speak upon grave and dire circumstances, after which we may vote to decide the futures of our peoples, I will remind you all to keep the proceedings civilised." Amauta continued, not particularly looking at anyone in particular, and moments later Amauta confirmed the session to be officially open before giving way for the Senator of New Zealand who motioned for the most important vote this Senate has ever voted on.

Only days ago, the Senate had also voted on a landmark vote, one that was inspired by the stance of their Majesties, a vote that declared no magical peoples would be abandoned to mundanes which had eased the recalcitrant communities still on Earth.

Unfortunately for them, it was only meant to pave the way for this vote.

The Senator for New Zealand rose from his seat and all eyes fell on the man. The man had a pale brown skin tone, one that spoke of his Maori and European heritage, though it was not what drew the attention.

He bore distinctive and ever-flowing black tattoos on his face, which looked to Abraxas to be…distasteful even if that distaste was lessened somewhat by the fact that it was not artistic but respectful to his ancestry.

And from the way the man, Senator Taniwha, looked around the Senate, it was clear the Maori knew the sentiment Abraxas had was shared amongst many of the European Senators.

"When the mundane Abel Tasman came to Aotearoa in 1642, we did not know that the pale man was a harbinger." Taniwha began, his voice dispersing through every corner of the room as he stood before the Senate and the filled galleries.

"A harbinger of calamity. A harbinger of death. None of the Maori had known it and none of the Tohunga Matakite [foretellers] had divined what it would mean when the mundane Tasman in his large ship had come to New Zealand." Taniwha said with an impressive eloquence.

Abraxas had not been familiar with the tales of New Zealand until they, along with dozens of smaller Polynesian communities and Australia, married themselves to Illos and Avalon. They were a principle ally and set to settle on Celestis with them.

He was still not too familiar but he knew that the Statute Wars was particularly devastating for the Maori magicals who were all steeped in war and magic.

"But" Taniwha continued "That is not to say that we were entirely blind to what my ancestors would have come to face. The Tohunga Matakite divined that a time of change would be coming near, one that would bloodily reconnect the Maori and our neighbours with the ancient kin." Taniwha said, a faint almost amused smile coming across his face that left almost as soon as it came.

"Fate" he said, stressing the word as he gazed across the room.

"Fate often is a cruel mistress. It may warn you but it never tells you the pain or suffering or death you will come to face. And that, my fellow Senators and guests, is what we are facing at this moment in time."

Murmurs broke out through the Senate House and Abraxas doubtlessly expected it to be the same in the galleries even though they were under a silence ward.

"You may think this to be extreme, especially now that we have effectively defanged the mundanes of their most destructive weapons, but it is not so." Taniwha said as he addressed the sour faces amongst the most ardent who wanted to 'punish' the mundanes.

"For do we not feel pain at the rejection that we feel from the mundanes who, for thousands of years until recent centuries, had lived amongst us and beside us?" Taniwha posed to the Senate before continuing

"Do many of us not wish to punish the mundanes as a consequence of this pain that we, as the magical peoples, surely feel?

Some of you may consider the mundanes to be so low below us that you reject this notion of pain and perhaps, for some of you, it is true that you feel nothing at their rejection but many amongst the magical world, myself included, there is that pain.

A pain that comes from a place of longing of olden days" Taniwha said with a wistful sigh "Days in which my ancestors created their stories, stories that I wear now on my face." Taniwha said as he gazed upon the Senate.

"And, as we see the mundanes reject us with near unanimity, we suffer the consequences of our isolation for now we are faced with a choice of death." Taniwha said with a grimness in his voice.

Abraxas spied across the room and saw that most had come to understand what Taniwha meant. Whilst their Majesties had convinced the majority of the magical world to leave for the Celestis system, the nuclear attack of the mundanes had opened up a fierce debate amongst the public.

'Why should we leave our motherland when we are strong enough to stay?'

It was a sentiment that could have fertile ground to take root but Abraxas doubted that it could even if their Majesties weren't ensuring that it would not.

For one, the Ancient Houses of several important country-ships that bore powerful scions were in the pockets of Illos and there was also not an archmage figurehead with such sentiments that could be followed in the public sphere.

And for another…

The magical world was filled with veterans of the Grindelwald war, with the survivors of the Ravenite Conquest and with people who remembered the chaos of the South American conflicts.

No one wanted another war. Not truly.

Especially if it meant that they'd have to kill billions of mundanes to achieve peace.

Taniwha raised his hands with the left hand slightly raised above the right.

"Death to billions of mundanes so that we may live in our ancestral homelands in peace though never without the dark taint on the soul of our people" Taniwha raised his right hand "Or death of a legacy on this world so that we may live again anew elsewhere with our souls preserved." Taniwha gazed upon the Senate and his gaze lingered upon the Indian Senator as he spoke.

"It should not be the hard choice that it is." Taniwha spoke kindly as he spoke practically directly to the Indian Senator who represented his people.

"I understand. We all understand you but just as we understand your position, you must understand that the reality we find ourselves in is not one that we can hope and negotiate for coexistence when both of our peoples are now so different from one another." Taniwha paused for a moment before he continued.

"And it is for that reason that I have tabled a vote to patriate all resistant communities to our country-ships and finally depart for lands that will be entirely ours alone." Taniwha finished before he sat down.

The Senate murmured amongst themselves with some cheering louder than decorum demanded and it wasn't long before the Indian Senator rose from her seat after the Speaker permitted it.

The Indian Senator was of the House Ethakadu, an ancient family in the South India, and had records that dated back almost two thousand years, and were amongst the leading families in India that fiercely refused leaving Earth and the Indian Ministry had become a leader of the disparate communities that were refusing to leave.

Her golden brown eyes peered at Taniwha and a number of other senators with whom she'd clashed with in a number of sessions, her expression set in displeased stone that seemed to be on the verge of shattering.

"You say that you understand." Senator Ethakadu said with a harsh note to her voice before she shook her head. "I do not believe you do for if you understood, you or anyone else would not have tabled such a destructive motion to the Senate" she said with a hint of anguish in her voice.

"What do you know of the spring days when the heavens open up and rivers stream out of the clouds? What do you know of the scorching summers that can bake an egg under the sun? What do you know of the chilling winters that can chill your heart to stillness?" the Indian senator posed with emotion in her voice as she looked around.

"These are all experiences that all of my people know. Experiences that their ancestors and their ancestors had known for thousands of years. Our land is rich with our stories, our struggles, our losses, our myths, our wars, and you are asking, no forcing us to abandon all of that without exploring every other option!"

Abraxas eyed the woman dispassionately.

Everyone knew what she was referring to. What she was practically begging for.

Research had been done to explore the possibility of erecting a greatly more impactful Statute of Secrecy, one that would remove all knowledge of magic from the minds of the muggles but the research that had been produced categorically stated that whilst it was possible, it was almost certain to fail in the following century.

The muggles were progressing too fast, too well, and it would be only a matter of time before they discovered them if they lived as they had lived for thousands of years.

And it wasn't simply finding their settlements…no…the research was more horrific than that. No, the muggles might well learn how to detect magic.

Magic, after all, was a form of energy and magicals and magical beings all exuded it amply whilst the Earth itself was a massive pool of magic beneath the skin.

Even if they diverted all the muggles away from that area of research, it would only take one muggle or one muggle company operating in secrecy for the existence of magic to become known to the entire world through their magi-com equivalent.

They would not know what it meant but eventually…they would.

Perhaps they could plan for that eventuality, perhaps they could orchestrate events so that their 'first' meeting would be peaceful but the truth of the matter is…

Much of the magical world would still be alive and would remember what happened last time they met and who is to say that the muggles don't learn independently of this true first meeting?

It did not take a genius to understand how…badly the muggles would react.

They were experiencing it now, after all.

And after a century of further development and a century of further population growth, the muggles would be more capable and even if he considered them lesser, he knew that the muggles were good at killing.

No, he thought, as another Senator spoke up and challenged the Indian Senator.

It was either leaving or exterminating the majority of the muggles.

Those were the only options they had available to them and whilst Abraxas considered the lives of muggles to be less than nothing, he knew that the price they'd pay was not worth it for losing a single magical was one magical too much.

Abraxas continued to watch silently as the 'for' and the 'against' arguments were pitted against each other, though it should be said that the 'against' arguments were little more than emotional manipulation and without reason, and long after he'd lost interest in the arguments, the moment for the momentous vote came about.

A vote enforced by the Federal Department of Aurors and the forces from the Council of Five.

Abraxas did not expect there to be much violence, not with the Office of Far-Sight ensuring there would not be any casualties, though he was curious to know how much resistance there would be.

The vote was tallied and the vote passed easily with 84% voting yes for the measure and the move to the Celestis System.

The Senate did not pretend to keep decorum and cheers rang around the Senate. The move had been long coming and it was only the fact that Illos was refusing to leave behind magical communities on Earth that waylaid the mass migration.

With the holo-vids and the documentaries of the Celestis system dispersed throughout the magical world, there was an almost mythological presence about those planets for the majority of people.

Abraxas turned his gaze towards the defeated Senators and saw the bitterness and defeat etched onto their faces as if they had lost all of their wealth.

Abraxas felt no pity for them.

Soon enough he was on his way home and after taking a portal back to Charum Tower, he apparated back to his family manor that was situated in the countryside between Illosand Avalon.

"Grandfather!" Abraxas allowed a rare smile to form on his face as he gazed upon his eight year old granddaughter though he lost it soon enough.

"Danica, what are you doing up at this hour?" he asked as he reached out with his hand to his granddaughter.

Danica hid it well but her face twisted sheepishly.

"I was watching on the Holo the Senate session with mother and father." Danica said to him before her little face scrunched slightly "Senator Ethakadu was a disappointment" she said with an expression that Abraxas was sure was meant to be imperious but on her little face it was nothing but quite adorable.

"Lady Ethakadu knew she was fighting a lost battle, granddaughter, which was she was appealing in the way that she did." Abraxas explained to his granddaughter.

There was no reason beyond sentimentality to remain. Not any longer.

Perhaps the muggle lovers could have had a chance to convince the foolish public had the muggles welcomed them open heartedly, making it an interesting but problematic situation to resolve, but as it was, there really was no reason to remain.

"Oh." Danica said with a frown on her face "Father said that as well" he noted the disappointment in her voice as they reached the living room.

"Why the disappointment?" Abraxas asked curiously and she looked up to him but before she could speak, another cut in.

"Dear Danica did not understand why she would speak when there is no point" the voice of Narcissa cut in who walked towards them with Lucius, an amused smile on her porcelain face and it was an amused smile that Lucius fashioned as well even if it was a mere shadow of Narcissa's.

"Ah, I see." Abraxas said as he peered down at the girl "Sometimes people do foolish things when they are upset." Abraxas raised a stern eyebrow "Like when you spiked Draco's drink with a Hair-Removal potion."

His granddaughter flushed before she twisted her face in a petulant look but before she retort, or rather explode – the Black blood was rather too strong in Abraxas' opinion – Narcissa cut her off. "It's time to go to bed. You have school tomorrow."

Abraxas watched the girl be dragged away by Narcissa before he refocused his attentions on his son, his face melting away all levity.

Lucius straightened up slightly, matching Abraxas, and they sat down with a glass of fire-whiskey in their hands.

"So it begins." Lucius remarked, his cold grey eyes meeting their mirror.

"So it does." Abraxas says as he leaned back, intently studying his son. Neither of them were talking about the journey that would last a few months but rather the changing political landscape of the magical world.

"We're in an advantageous position but if this century has taught me anything, such positions are but words to the wind." Impactful, perhaps, but always destined to fade away. The status quo of the magical world had been ripped away by their Majesties, piece by piece, and in its place they'd built themselves an eternal pyramid that would beckon all and everyone to seek to climb and reach the top.

Ancient families would always have the advantage but that was an advantage that was vastly less than had been before and though they could increase their advantage by spawning powerful wizards and witches, such things were but lotteries.

And soon enough…

And soon enough, he expected the coming generations to understand that.

The chances of a Black or a Fawley or a Shafiq becoming Chief Minister were as likely as a nobody becoming Chief Minister of Avalon.

And it was like that by design and almost all of the families did not know that and those that were fully in the favour of their Majesties and that was a special privilege entirely of its own. But it would not last.

Abraxas knew his old classmate far too well to think that she would award that special privilege through the family lines forever.

"Draco will not fail us." Lucius told him with absolute belief in his face.

Abraxas watched his son for a long few moments before he nodded and drank of his fire-whiskey. After he swallowed the drink he spoke up with a critical note in his voice "It will be up to you to ensure that, Lucius." He left unspoken that he himself had not failed with Lucius and knowing the ambitions his son had, he expected Lucius to feel prickly about even the possibility of failing where Abraxas had not.

Lucius did not let it show on his face however and Abraxas felt satisfaction by the control of his son.

This was a good day, Abraxas decided as he finished up his glass of fire-whiskey.

He'd forever be in the history books as the Senate voted to leave and future Holos would show him be present in the background. The Chief Minister of Avalon who oversaw departure. The confidante of Her Majesty the Queen.

Founding member of Ouroboros. The most influential Englishman of his time who went to Hogwarts with the founders of the Sayre-Slytherin clan. His personal political legacy would be a mountain seldom any would be able to climb over.

Abraxas stood up and peered to look at his son once more.

Despite all of that however, he thought to himself, his greatest legacy will be his son.

Empires built by great men would fall upon the succession of an incompetent heir, destroying their legacies. His son however, would not be one such heir.

No, his son might not be able to reach his heights but he'd at least ensure that the Malfoy family never fails to fall below others on their quest to reach the summit of the pyramid and neither would he brook anything else from Draco.

And that, he thought to himself as he bid his son goodnight, was a legacy equal to any other that he'd achieved.

-Break-

31st of October, 1993 – Near Earth Orbit

A halo of iridescent blue cradled around the world, Earth, light made of uncountable spectrum of wavelengths absorbed by molecules, by atmosphere, bouncing, changing, returned into his eyes, into his sight, as iridescent blue.

Beautiful…

Atticus wasn't sure how long he hung, near drifting in vacuum, in space.

It could have been days, it could have been seconds.

He cared not.

He cared absolutely.

Twinned, his state, twinned his state of mind.

Like twilight stars spiralling into one another, away from another, his mind warred with itself as he gazed upon home, home of humanity.

A home where countless of humans, mage and mundane alike, lived and died and lived, in peace, at the hands of others, at their own hands, at the choices of all.

Life…and death…this world was. Is.

A marble of a world that destiny wrapped its hungry fingers around, eagerly waiting to fling it from its grasp towards an unrepentant universe.

A shadow of a smile crossed around his emotive face, magic thrumming in his veins with might yet unknown, like a thousand rivers storming their banks at the height of monsoon, his gaze never wavering from the world that meant so much.

Would always mean so much.

His gaze turned towards where he knew the satellites were, his gaze sharpening, magic pouring into his retina, his sight zooming into what should have been less than a speck of dust from this distance, yet he saw with crystal clear clarity and sharpness.

The crystalline satellites were in position, brimming with magical energy eager to be unleashed and wash over the globe and billions of people with its effects.

Forever altering what is into what will be.

Hmm…

He turned around, towards the country-ships, his gaze never lingering as he looked to one country-ship and then another, and then another, until every country-ship had been gazed upon at this zeroth hour.

In only months, his people would see a new star. New night skies.

Breathe new air and live new lives.

And at this moment, this very moment, thoughts of distant enemies and malicious Gods were far from the forefronts of his minds, as memories of what is to come filled his mind.

Memories of love – little Arthur and Rionach and Emily, of family – dinner table surrounding by Sayres, Lovegoods and Provydetsis, of progress – the gleaming tower of the Federal Naval Academy, of security – the distant light of an indomitable fortress starbase, of peace – the first treaty between Dwarves and Goblins in centuries.

Of unity – the twentieth celebration of Landing Day on Celestis.

Memories that swam in his mind like wistful spores caught in gentle spring winds.

All of it…

All that he'd done.

All that he stood by and listened happen…watched happen…made happen…

It was all for those memories…for that future…

All a culmination of everything. A culmination of all that he had done.

The good. The bad. The great. The terrible.

He turned back around towards the Earth…the beautiful Earth…

A wave of melancholy washed over him as the pull of this wondrous world gnawed at his being, a moment reminiscent of illogical pre-marital jitters.

This life of his…

He'd experienced so much…gained so much…yet…the one thing that he gained above all else…despite how ironic it was…despite how contrary he acted…

Was humanity.

Humanity…

Even now, even at this zeroth hour, this minute before midnight, he could still not pinpoint what it actually meant, what it was supposed to mean.

Only that he felt it.

Only that he incorporated it.

In all of its beauty. In all of its evil.

In all of its vastness.

He'd come into this world, this universe…this existence…as a boy who had shed his humanity, who had been forged into sociopathy, uncaring of the future, only caring what it could do for him.

And now, as he stood in empty space, cloaked in a thin film of magic…of neurophysical energy, he could only think what future he could provide for his people, shedding his own desires, willingly shedding his own humanity for theirs despite now knowing what it was…how valuable it truly was.

And wasn't that the greatest humanity of them all?

To reach beyond oneself…to reach to others, other fellows?

To be less so that they could be more?

Hmm…

Perhaps it was all but a lie, this rationalisation, this violation amongst a great many other violations and misdeeds…

He found that it mattered not. Not to them. Not their descendants. Not to himself.

He'd long went past the red line, beyond the returning point.

And…

As he raised his hands, the hue of magic that surrounded him deepening in strength, in virility, about to set in motion the first of two planet affecting spells...

He found that he was at peace with himself about it all.

At peace with the good. The bad. The great. The terrible.

He twisted the wrist of his left hand and the display on his arm brace signalled that the first spell has been activated.

The satellites began to glow an iridescent gold and dark grey and off-white, the core frequencies of the Miring Gene Array dominating the complex spell structure.

Gold –Altering the fabric of reality to a set of probabilities

Dark Grey – Manipulation of genetics

Off-White – Bypassing magical resistance to the genetic and probabilistic change

Atticus watched silently as he watched the spell wash over the entire Earth, the sense of peace never leaving him even as he knew that for some they'd never know peace even after they'd forgotten what they'd lost.

There were still magical people down there. A few who were ardently against leaving and those who betrayed the magical world in favour of the mundane.

They'd lose their magic and would be changed on a genetic level just like the Dormants would be and only through meeting the conditions would their bloodlines be reactivated.

It was a cruel fate.

But fate was a cruel mistress.

And, this way, once the branches of humanity meet each other again, magicals would very likely be born amongst the mundanes enmasse once contact is re-established.

Atticus continued to watch silently as the spell ran its course, altering magicals and Dormants alike to a similar genetic profile as the failed clones.

After the spell ended and the satellites self-destructed,he began to descend down and down and down. Beyond the exosphere. Beyond the thermosphere. Until he stopped once he reached the troposphere.

He let the protective magic lessen but did not drop it, allowing him to feel the freezing air that surrounding him to feel nothing more than a summer breeze.

He reached out through his familiar bond with Fila, 'It's time', and felt her connect to her brood moments later to let them know that the storm was coming, and he felt Fila arrive on Earth, the port-keys having activated.

Atticus' eyelids drooped low though the white glow persisted, his arms rising, and the magic that began to surround him was alike a new born violet and emerald star.

It was slow.

The tempest of magic that boiled, broiled, within him.

Like the slow turn of the Earth, day was coming on slowly for him as his magic roused itself from its sleepy slumber, the cover of dark fading away as the rays of his magic touched upon the world.

The thin air around him began to shift magic was made manifest, the tempest within eking out of him in a kaleidoscopic array of power, crackling and fizzling and groaning, each second that passed expanding the radius of the touch of his magic a hundred meters.

The first ring of chains he placed upon his magic fell away, an explosion of magic sundered out of him, violets and emerald and pure white radiating out of him akin to when matter radiated out a few seconds after the birth of the universe, and he began to fall.

Falling and falling, down in the atmosphere, down from the amidst the clouds like a fallen star as rock and soil and fauna lost their vagueness amidst a sea of blue.

He'd need to be situated upon a nexus, upon an intersection of powerful leylines, and he guided himself downwards as rough islands amidst sharp contours of land disappeared away the nearer he reached the ground…old ground…familiar ground.

There was a symmetry of a kind, a beautiful symmetry that showed, that declared, about the natures of beginnings and endings, how a beginning never truly begins without an end and an end never ends without a beginning.

His feet settled onto ground on which Hogwarts, and the rock on which Hogwarts had stood upon, and let the second chains around his magic loose.

The world around him began to bend, buckle, reality turned into alike to molten plastic as his magic reshaped everything that it touched, everywhere it went, and soon enough, his magic reached down towards the very depths of the leylines.

Atticus fully raised his hands, the first grey clouds cast above him, the third chains around his magic coming undone, the miasma of magical energy around him grew into turbulence, into upheaval, into a storm, and the world became eager to reciprocate as the grey clouds began to thicken, began to stretch, the first inklings of lighting lining the surface of the clouds.

Thunder began to rumble, and rumble, and rumble, low purrs, low growls, akin to the low sounds of a salivating lion eying its challenger, moments away from growling with all of its might, and his magic, his ever companion, his ever beacon, continued to grow into a tsunami of kaleidoscopic power.

The magic in his veins poured out of him like a geyser, liquid power streaming around him with the veracity of the life and the warmth of blood, and the afternoon faded away into dusk as the greys blotted out the day.

CRACK, CRACK, CRACK

Lightning cracked through the blanket of greys with frightening strength, spider webs glowing white cracks tore apart the heavens as he connected to the nature magic of Earth. She didn't fight, she didn't rage, instead, he was welcomed like a child to the bosom of a mother.

She knew his magic, she knew what he was and…as his storm began to spread from the North Sea to the Atlantic and to the equator, clouds of grey blanketing across the world like an locust across a field of wheat, she came to know what he intended to do…what he'd already done.

Living bearing planets could be sentient, sort of, kind of, almost.

Planets like Earth. Like Celestis.

Not like sentient in the way of sentient beings, not even in the way Fila or Seraya were sentient beings, but in the way of a strobe light, in which they were neither on or off but in between, forever towing the line between being and not.

And it was for that reason that he'd not felt her wrath, that he did not lose control of the weather system as he wrestled fully under his control, and he felt sadder for it.

He felt Fila through his bond, confirming that she and her brood were conjuring their own storms, storms that would feed from his storm and his storm from theirs, causing a feedback loop that would strengthen the global storm to the level he wanted.

Atticus slowly crinkled his fingers into a fist, the broiling tempestuous magic that surrounded him, the ground on which Hogwarts had stood upon and even down far below to Hogsmeade, he let go of the last chains and he disappeared in a blinding violet and emerald light and the world trembled underneath the weight of his magic.

Thunder howled with the rage-filled screams of a thousand banshees and the impossible sounds of the lightning crackled like mountain tall glaciers moments away from bursting apart under the pressure and strain of meltwater at its back.

The world descended into chaos, into darkened chaos as greys blanketed into blackness only broken apart by streaks of lightning that seemed permanent, that seemed to be a facet of the night sky itself and Atticus was beginning to feel the strain as he fed his magic to the storm he was generating, as he bent the world to his will forcing it to kneel before him.

The strain was not as bad as Celestis had been though he could feel it, the ache in his bones, the hastening depletion of his magic that only such magicks could cause.

Rain pelted the ground around him, their size the size of a baseball bat, battering and weathering away against the soil and rock with impressive power and he raised his fists into the heavens and by the force of his will, his magic, the rain turned sideways.

The air whistled, howled, screamed, their tune off-key as he turned the weather system upside down, streaks of violet and emerald broke the monotony of grey and glowing white across the starless night sky, and he delved deep into his magic as he spread himself across the streaks of lightning.

This was not like Celestis, where the planet was akin to a limb that he was always aware of, regardless of distance, but more like how one could feel a stone through a thick boot, such was his awareness within the storm.

With immense strain Atticus sent out a signal on his magic-com brace which would activate the payload to be dispersed in the air, the rains, the rivers and atmosphere for days to come.

The brace vibrated against his arm and he knew then that the payload was dispersing itself into the storm and now the hardest part would come.

Atticus sunk deeper into his magic, reaching down to grab every single iota of power within him. Time passed. Time melted away as he stretched himself to feel every inch of the storm, every eddy, every ion particle and every formation of rain.

Fila and her brood wielded over control to him, blips and flickers of curiosity from Fila's brood overshadowed by the weight of the storm pressing into his mind.

He could feel the strain now, the strain on his mind, the strain on his magic, and he clenched his teeth so hard that had it been not altered by age old rituals, his teeth would have cracked under the force.

Time no longer melted away, time no longer felt as if it held no dominion over him for his face became etched in pain as the weight of controlling every aspect of the storm, guiding and shepherding every molecule of altered Swooping Evil venom throughout the storm so water vapour formations were all interspersed with the substance.

He was not sure how long he was there for, the howls of the winds and the booming thunder and the crackling lightning felt like a breeze in comparison to the pain that he felt, in comparison to growing desire of wanting to stop, to give in, to say it is enough, but he pressed on, somehow.

His gaze began to blur, the kaleidoscopic world around that was painted with his magic was blinking in and out of darkness, his knees on the verge of buckling, as if he were a mountain balanced on top of the edge of a hundred feet thick steel beam, slowly but surely deforming, buckling, moments before the moment of catastrophic failure was set to happen.

But fortune smiled on him for he was still cognizant enough to feel his brace vibrate, the signal that he'd done enough, that he'd achieved what he'd set out to do and he immediately pulled out of his mind from the storm, the strain lost feeling like as if he could breathe again and soon enough he began to dial back his magic from the world, pulling away from the storm and the weather system with an almost careful tenderness and soon only what remain was broken clouds of grey and pattering of rain, a return to normal for these misery Scottish Highlands.

Atticus breathed in and out heavily as he stood tall, his eyes peering down towards where Hogsmeade once stood, his feet ankle deep in mud and rain, and saw a familiar sight there.

Mud and rain.

A sight that would be seen around much of the world.

Atticus stared at the sight for a few seconds before he shook away his thoughts and sent Fila and her brood back to Illos before he, after one last glance at the sight that once meant much to him and so many generation of wizards and witches, he waved his hand and created a portal back to Illos.

He stepped out into Charum Tower into the pseudo command centre, where he was greeted with the sight of Emily, Parelius and Hypatia amidst a backdrop of pseudo bridge crew, each of them wearing different expressions, and he walked over.

He could feel the look of the crew, his people, as he walked, waiting with bated breath, and he almost felt like saying something that threw them off.

But he was not that cruel to ruin a moment they'd tell their great-great-grandchildren.

He greeted Parelius and Hypatia with a faint smile before he turned towards Emily and kissed her cheek and he felt her hand on his arm. She made to part from him but he held her close and she stopped her movement.

"Give the order." Atticus whispered in her ear.

She continued her movement and peeled off of him, surprise etched on her face and he offered her a loving smile as he took hold of her hand, gently squeezing.

She'd supported in everything he did. Sometimes eagerly. Sometimes begrudgingly.

Other times angrily.

But nonetheless, she was always there for him. At his weakest. At his strongest.

And now…

He wanted to give her this moment that was never his alone.

It always belonged to the pair of them.

Since the day he'd taken her up into space in his rickety magical shuttle.

Emily schooled her face but he felt her deep appreciation through their bond before she turned towards the helm. "Pilot…take us home." Emily regally said.

The bridge crew without hesitation began to work at their stations, stations that were paired with every country-ship and would be mated to Illos for the entire duration of the journey, and the pilot began to spool up the slipspace drive.

They all turned towards the holo-display that displayed the front of Illos, and the positions of all the other country-ships which were getting into formation, waiting on the slipspace window to open.

Atticus felt her squeeze his hand slightly and he turned towards her and saw him staring at him with bright intensity. He tilted his head quizzically and she smiled a smirking smile at him before she leaned into his face.

She brushed her head against his cheek and he could feel her breath against his ear, her other hand softly stroking against his other cheek and he felt a privacy ward erected around them.

"I'm ready" she whispered into his ear and Atticus pulled away from her, surprise etched on his face, despite knowing that it would happen. Though it was not a surprise of unexpectedness but a surprise that was akin to a strange sort of relief.

"I…"

Emily's amusement shone and it made him re-centre himself though the delight he felt was radiating out through their bond and Emily's amusement faded away and her expression softened.

She turned away from his gaze and turned towards the holo-display.

Atticus stared at her for a long time before he tightened his grip on her hand and turned towards the holo-display.

He'd always said that he never sought to look deep into their futures, into what could be but would never happen. It was not a lie but sometimes…when he looked far into the possible but unlikely futures…he could come to find glimpses.

Glimpses of violet eyed and dark-blue eyed children.

Those were often triggers for depression…to know that they could come to exist if only…if only he asked, if only he delayed things a while longer, regardless of the negative impact to their people.

Perhaps he could change things in a way that would not need him to sacrifice the prosperity and wellbeing of their people and get to have them too.

Those were often thoughts that had been the most tempting, like the sweet song of the silver-tongued serpent lulling one into complacency and dangerousness, and sometimes…sometimes they'd been only averted by a great degree of will.

He had no right to gamble the prosperity and wellbeing of their people in such a way, not after all that he has done…not after all that he will ask and demand of them.

Though…it helped that ache in his heart that he'd seen them in this future.

In this timeline.

"I'm…I'm glad." Atticus said softly, quietly, his voice tinging with quiet joy and he felt her squeeze his hand harder as the brilliant sight of a huge slipspace window came into view.

"You should be." Emily said almost airily as she glanced at him, a look of annoyance on her face though he knew it was put on. "You won't be the one carrying them."

"Them?" Atticus' face broke into a wide grin as Emily realised her error and quickly looked away towards the slipspace window, her neck reddening slightly.

"Slip of the tongue." Emily said a little briskly and if grins could walk off of faces, Atticus' grin surely would have.

"Of course" Atticus said fully seriously though it was hard with the way he was grinning and he wouldn't be surprised if his eyes were twinkling madly.

He felt her squeeze his hand a little harder and he restrained himself, though barely, and he refocused on the holo-display just in the nick of time as Illos surged into slipspace along with the other country-ships, finally journeying to their waiting homes.

Their Celestial homes.

-Break-

The Domain, Abyssal Hall

Abaddon (Manu) POV

An incomprehensible mass glided through a sea made of endless experiences and untold embers of Essences, gliding like a wooden raft on stormy peaks of ocean.

Yet, such comparison fell short, impossibly short, as streams of experiences with jets containing billions and trillions of experiences and Essences parted from Its form in all directions, like waves parting at the front edge of a raft, for these experiences, for these Essences, were but mere collections of molecules in comparison to It.

Its form, almost akin to that of a seahorse bearing a dozen wings and a fully unfurled tail, was galactic in size, a monstrous size in a Domain that bore nothing but living information. Knowledge. Experiences. Essences.

It felt another disturbance in Living Time and it felt familiar to It though it was smaller, lesser though it was far more than had been Moments ago.

Its wings beat and the Domain shuddered.

Since near the Dawn of this Universe and from the instance It was created, It served.

It stood watch.

Over the Domain and over the Living Universe, Its gaze falling upon every molecule and Consciousness in existence, seeing the Beginning and the Ending of countless drops of Consciousness in the Material Universe, and the harvest of millions of civilisations.

Some, lasted longer than most yet none could escape the Fate of All which was woven within the fabric of the Universe, like braided energy underneath a cloth of immovable gravity. Like in every Universe to Be or that has Past.

Yet, for all Its infinite knowledge which spanned a simple few million years, a heart beat, from the Dawn until the immediate End, It was not All-Knowing. All-Seeing.

It did not know the Universes to Be or the Universes once had Been, for It was created again and again after the Dawn by the Dumuzi, ad nauseam, once after the Universe contracted into itself when Living Time breathed its final breath at Dusk and when Living Time breathed again at Dawn.

That was not Its Purpose, to know what came before and would come after.

Yet It was/is wanting, wanting for the time since Its creation, to know if the Universes that had been and the Universes that will be had been/will be like the Universe that is as disturbances with familiar yet weaker touches in a re-ripening field of Milk and Honey caught Its attentions Moments ago and Moments later.

It had felt such touches before, when the Dumuzi wanted/want to experience what their creations experienced/experience, retaining an element of themselves in those cycles, but It had/did not felt/feel such touches from a planted seed before.

It was/is unique.

It was/is the first instance the Dumuzi rewove/reweave Fate since the first Moments past Dawn with an active hand when the familiar yet weaker touches lingered/lingers.

It was/is also the first instance the reweaving became/becomes undone and would remain undone, the disturbances growing to wakes and quakes that threatened/threatens to shatter immovable gravity.

It cast/casted its gaze in Living Time with newly-created fascination, the lens that married the Past and the Future into itself yet was now/always shifting and changing into distorted glass as Wars of Fate will-be/are/were fought, Its Eye latching on the-now Fixed Points of the disturbances.

It was/is/will be noticed by the Origin, Atlanteans whisper-echoes the Domain into It, and It was/is/will be noticed by the infinitesimally small Consciousness, a human female-child, who is more than Fate would have had it should be.

'MINE' 'OURS' 'VENGEANCE' 'HOPE' 'VICTORY' 'DESPERATION'

The whisper-echoes of Essences cry out in unison in the Moments Before and in the Moments After, and It pays/paid attention to what It knew/knows/will know, coming to/having come to/will know the eons long conspiracy that It has/had known since it started and what It will allow/had allowed to be sparked into existence in the Material Universe.

It grew/grows curiosity as the Dumuzi falter, never having been challenged for control over Fate, their instrument, and in that faltering, the infinitely small cracks in their immovable gravity are made permanent, fixed, and prone to grow into chasms.

It noticed/notices the aberration the Fixed Points Origins sought/seek to make and is noticed in turn by the aberration who weathers at the cracks of immovable gravity.

It follows the threads in Living Time and meets/met/will meet the half Dumuzi half seedlings before/after It allows/allowed/will allow the aberration fleeting meetings with the crooning conspiring Essences who beset the aberration with warnings and fitful desires completing the paradoxical loop that anchors the Fixed Points.

And so, It began/begins to find the Moments Later to be longer, no longer in the same instance as Moments Before, more distant and less clear, in Living Time as the disturbances are no more disturbances but ebbs and flows with the tides of the Wars of Fate, and It learns/learned that the Dumuzi learn that it is the same for them.

It feels their uncertainty and their excitement and their caution at the New reverberate in Living Time, and their attentions are/will be turned towards the galactic cluster overran with their brethren in their ravenous form.

And, as It stretched its Eye with considerable power that could cause a thousand stars to implode, It caught glimpses of infinite Moments Later that were/are as likely as each other yet in all of them, It caught an unchanging Point…

A point in which hitherto unseen before Devastation would be wrought in the battles between the New and the Old.

And It, for the first time, in the past or present or future, experienced Its satisfaction.