The great chamber was hidden, nobody would ever find it unless they were summoned and the young one was trembling with nervous anxiety, he had heard the master’s call and now he was standing within the circle, waiting. He was staring down at his feet, the tablet and the quill held in shaking hands. He had never been summoned before, this was the first time and he remembered very well all the warnings he had been given by his peers. Being called forth by the master was a huge honour, but one which always came with a bitter aftertaste. Knowledge is power and yet, that power can be a sweet poison.

He held his breath, the walls of the chamber turned into a blur and his head felt oddly light, he had to close his eyes and when he opened them he stood within a different circle. The great crystals surrounding him were different, these were not grey but dark red and the chamber was gone. Instead he was staring at a vast expanse, so great he couldn’t see its end in any direction and mist was dancing around the circle, creating the illusion of movement. He felt nauseous, his heart was hammering within his chest, and he wondered if he even could manage to move. He was a scribe, not a magician, and this was beyond his comprehension. He blinked, tried to find a direction in which he could walk, but everything was the same, even the sky above him, mist and darkness and nothing else. He knew better than to look down, the warnings had been clear and he took a deep breath and started to walk, he knew what to avoid and yet he was terrified. He was sure the beating of his heart could be heard from afar, and in this enchanted void every sound, even the slightest ones, would be greatly enhanced.

He knew the master would appear soon enough and he walked on, trying to look confident even though he felt like retching. His feet made no sound and he had an odd feeling of floating, it made his need to look down even stronger and yet he resisted. There was a faint light up ahead and he kept moving, kept going in spite of his mounting fear. He had never seen the master, but he knew what others said and it made his entire body shake. He saw that throne, it wasn’t shaped like any throne he had ever seen before and its strangely bizarre beauty wasn’t really meant for the eyes of anyone except the very few. He ought to feel honoured to be among those chosen ones but he couldn’t grasp that feeling. The throne looked like a half melted castle with its turrets and towers felled, tipped over at odd angles. The elegant lines distorted and misshapen, some places as if pushed down by a great power from above, other places torn apart as if by the claws of some great beast. Among the ruins he waited, the one they called the master.

The young one bowed deeply, his mouth dry and his hands clammy. The being on the throne wasn’t sitting, he stood, and he turned slowly. The great height and the strange cold revealed him to be something not human, perhaps not even alive as others regard life. The entire body covered by a veil, dark and dense, made from a myriad of layers of thin ones. It danced around the body in a wind nobody could feel and the young one tried to remember everything he had been told. (I am here master)

The creature nodded slowly. (I see, now, you brought your tablet and your quill?)

The young one took a deep breath, not a word could be spoken here, it may change the fate of worlds and they spoke mind to mind. The mind of the master was touching his own like the touch of a steel blade, relentless and without mercy. (Yes)

The great being made a gesture and a table and a chair appeared out of nowhere, the young one walked forth shakily and sat down, placed the tablet on the table and readied the quill. Everything written there would be reality, somewhere and sometime. He couldn’t make any mistakes now. He waited.

The great creature lifted a hand, it was long and almost skeletal, very pale. (The patterns have been interrupted; by unworthy ones. the tides are changing. Our interference is called for or else doom will fall upon a world)

The young one bit his lower lip. (I am listening o great one)

The creature made a wide gesture. (Throw a pebble into a pond and watch how the ripples spread, throw in a second pebble and watch how the patterns interweave, how they are strengthened and changed, how intricately they dance. Throw in a third pebble and behold, it is all either perfected or ruined.)

The young one was holding the pen in a quivering hand. (What do you plan upon doing o great one?)

The being turned around, as if watching a great vista unfold before him, he raised both hands. (The worlds touch in places, what happens in one may happen in others, we cannot afford that danger to creation. I am gonna throw inn that fourth pebble which will return the pattern to harmony, listen young soul, here is what you are to write)

The scribe bowed his head. (I am listening)

The great being tilted its head. (A man who should live must die, a man who who should die must live. The one sired by no man must bring the one time forgot to the place where fury withers. So it will be written, so it will be)

The young one wrote, the quill moving as if on its own, the text glowing slightly as it was put down. The great one nodded once. (Go now, what I will do cannot be witnessed by anyone, it will make you go insane)

The young one got up and the tablet started to hover above the table, it spun and the words glowed stronger now. Then it started to rise, to fly upwards and as it sped up it grew in size, became grand and the words visible from afar. He followed it with his gaze and knew that those words now had become a part of the grand weave, of the fabric of space and time. It made him proud, and also very humble. He bowed and walked back, disappeared into the mist and the grand one waited, nobody could be there when he was to perform his duties. He always got what he was owed, it was in the nature of things and yet…he cared greatly for the balance of these worlds, for their continuance for without life he would be worthless and his task no more.

He was a gardener, and sometimes life had to be extinguished for life to thrive, it was the path of life and destiny and it was good that way. But this he had seen…there were always those who believed that they could cheat at this game, beat it somehow.

It was always futile and yet the very attempt could disturb the fate of a universe. Those who stepped outside of the lines did so risking not only their own soul but that of countless others and nothing angered him more. The arrogance, the defiance. The young one was back in his own dimension and the great being retrieved something from his dark robes. It was a thin needle, made from a material not found anywhere in any world, only this rarity was capable of doing what he wished for.

The very universe was humming around him now, the great void echoing of its song and he smiled, it was wonderful and yet it would have driven anyone else to utter madness within seconds. The sound a cacophony of songs, of themes, of voices crying out in love and life and death. The very existence of the universe driven by sound, and sound could in return change the outcome of so much, it could change everything if you knew just to use it. He raised a hand and the sounds around him died down, silence ruled once more. It was needed but it wasn’t easy, nor was it something he wanted to do. And still he had to do it, had to get in there and change the fate of an entire world.

He smiled again, a somewhat sardonic grin. There was one there who never would enter his realm, who never would reach that rest, that freedom. And that one was in some ways his own tool, his own servant for he had brought so many to the great one’s realm. Yes, he was blind to the fate of this one being, born by chance, by an accident and an oversight from the great one and his brethren. He had never believed that mere mortals would dare to go that far, and still they had and the result horrified him back then and still did. But the one was useful, and could help return things to their balance.

He took the needle and brought it to a finger, a tiny drop of black blood appeared and he witnessed as it fell towards the floor, very slowly. It hit the black shiny surface as in slow motion and it was like a great gong was being hit by an equally great hammer. The sound spreading, so loud every eardrum would have been broken from miles away if anyone had been there. It spread, becoming grander, stronger and he witnessed how it changed the pattern, became a part of it, enhanced it. He was a part of it now, a part of the events which had to unfold, he put the needle away, it wasn’t often he had to intervene but this time he had to. The things he had seen unfold… these worlds were like beautiful gardens and there was always the chance of a freak storm, or a rot attacking the roots. Sometimes destruction meant rebirth and new life, a new chance. Other times it only gave birth to misery, and this case was one of them. Above all he more than all others loved all life, for without it he was naught.