Disclaimer: sadly, I do not own this franchise.

Graystone boulders, each of them – the tombstone of someones shattered dreams are falling from the empty and uncaring sky into the frozen sea of black obsidian blood that merges somewhere unimaginably far in the horizon with the forbidding infinitely high walls. The walls that are the border between here, and there, between despair, and perhaps, the glimmer of hope, between what can be seen and the rest of the world stories about which are only sometimes lightly whispered in the deep darkness of the caves, being told from one to another from before the beginning of this morbid tale.

Pitted to their very depths by the twisted and haphazard tunnels those falling monoliths are filled to the brim by the swarming, spasming, exuding slime and excrements life that has no resemblance to the humanity as we know it whatsoever, but is no less cruel in its infinite desire for progress.

The surface of each of them is entwined by the poisonous wines that crashes, not unlike the baby who destroys it's beloved dolls in the fit of the primal urge to kill, their stone flesh, and reaches deep into their crevices to drink the blood or what perhaps can be called the blood of the poor of the races hiding there the fact of their existence.

The form of boulders varies wildly. Some may resemble unknown here tuber of the potato, others are similar to a half-eaten bone. But…

But if one was to distance himself from this grotesque and most natural of pictures, then what that one would see would be very different indeed.

The angles of the boulders would straighten themselves out, obeying the laws of space and perspective that is not entirely Euclidean. Their surfaces would flatten themselves to the degree where they would seem to be mirrors and perhaps even further, transcending the realm of what is achievable in nature and going into the places where only plots exist.

The hard radiation of the observer's shining eyes, for normal ones would be utterly useless in this starless pit, would boil the vines and the blood of those beings unlucky enough to venture close to the surface of the blocks, liquefytheir strange circular skulls and peel off their skins half-melting it in the process. The watcher, however, would in his blessed ignorance notice only the cheerful bright colors of red and yellow and blue and violet.

This is the most cruel game to ever exist.

This is your favorite pastime.

And this… This is the other side of the coin.

I am born to build. In the depths of the sky, I was born knowing. From the very beginning, which has just past, I know this. Even before this in the place I could not describe even if I wanted, where the unseen stars crafted me in their own image, molding all the infinite possibilities into the alloy of my existence, I knew this.

I feel this with all of my monolithic body. I feel like I feel every last one of those beasts that are spread throughout my intestines, even as they multiply with every passing moment feasting upon my delicious flesh. Their blood is lilac and it colors my skin, tingling under the rays of the twin unblinking suns, watching tirelessly over me. Their blood, their bones, the vines that consume them, everything is lilac. This I know too, for it is my name, the definition of what I am and what I am to build. I am Lilac.

As I glide trough the air, obeying the rules that are not mine to know in my curving, changing movement, I can see a field, a swamp, a plane deep under me. And on that frozen and unmoving white plane I can see thpse, who are my brothers. Creators – blue, yellow, red. And even Lilac! I am forever grateful that some power, perhaps some will is guiding me to them, to our union, cemented by the purpose we were born to share.

As I land upon another Lilac one the sound of our collision thunders across the world, signaling to all those who want to hear: we are progressing! We are one step closer to the sky! And even as I mourn all those who have died in the landing, I cannot help but to believe in the future, that would undoubtedly be ours. Mine and theirs, together.

Long time has ago I have come to rest in this place, atop the shoulders of my Lilac brothers. The others are resting atop me in turn. The beings that inhabit me has spread and multiplied. They are advancing in flesh and, I believe, in mind. They rarely are prey to the vines that entangle me now. In the deepest of my tunnels they have created worlds of their own, reshaping my body into the forms of dwellings and of art. Perhaps one day they would progress enough and Join us, me and my brothers, in the creation of the world.

Not yet of course. They fight sometimes between themselves. I do not know why. I can sometimes gleam into the logic of their minds, but the concepts of "race", "conflict", "religion" is too alien to me. I hope to understand them in the future.

And through the union, the song of minds I know that the moment when we reach the skies is getting close.

Huh? What's that? I feel.. I feel fear. The union disrupted. The beasts are fleeing from the upper blocks. There are the riots in my corridors. What's happening up there? What is going on? And why is sky becoming farther still? And no answers…

I see the sky for the first time in many generations. It's mocking me and I am terrified. The yellow that stood atop me is gone. He is just gone. One moment there, next he is just. There is no sign of him. The air and the space, the time itself seems charged with blind fear. Will I be next? I do not want… to die? Is their death for me?

Another Lilac can be seen, as he is coming down atop me. My occupants are leaving, running to the lower blocks. Their sacrificial watcher, who comes to surface to observe the sky and melt into my rocks has told them about the coming of my brother. And now they are running. Why? What do they know that I cannot yet grasp? There is a Lilac under me and there is the one who soon will come to be atop me. What makes the inside dwellers so scared? I don't want to die.

The hit! The pain! The blinding flash as thousand of needles bite into my flash, destroying it, denying it's existence! Time ceases to have meanings. The living beings inside me turn to ash. I am becoming dust and it in turn is turning into nothingness and Score.

The understanding from beyond the pain of death is flooding in my mind. I see what happened and why I'm destined to die. And by my blood and blood of my inhabitants, by our crashed hopes, I surse you! I curse the fact of your existence, the great and mighty sons, the eyes of the insanely cruel and uncaring god! Creator of the world, I hope you to lose!

I turn what's left of me, my chance at the rebirth and afterlife into the spiteful wish. This is the last thing I can accomplish as I fade. Let those who will come be faster. Let them come! I pray for them to crash from the sky like lightings, far faster that I could. I, like my dead brothers before me, with all of what I am, of what I was, command this world: move faster and be harder still to be manipulated!

Please, world, let the God fail… We only wish to reach the Sky.


It can be said that this was inspired by thing like Tron, Reboot and Lovecraft... I would like to think about this story as a deconstruction of a genre that is in desperate need of both fanfiction and deconstruction.
And if somebody would like to write a better story in the world of this great and famous game, I would dearly like to read it, because I really don't think I did this fandom justice in this story. You can consider this a challenge.