Insurrection on Ma'ehmaq

''Six thousand years ago, a Force-rich world was helpless under the thumb of a twisted and mysterious ruler. They sought to free themselves of his control, fighting their way through hundreds of loyalists. The rebels slew three guards for every one of their number that fell. ''

''They arrived at the Temple that Ginungagap called home to find him unguarded. ''

''What transpired after is known only to him. He rules to this day.''

Insurrection on Ma'ehmaq
There is unrest amongst the chattel.

For two thousand years, they served without question. For two thousand years, they obeyed without complaint. They are fed, clothed, healthy, and useful - yet they betray me.

I stand at the center of the temple their ancestor's ancestors built for my use. The walls around me bear crude semblances to me, their forebears' attempt to please and praise what they believed a god. The room echoes with the sound of wood on stone and steel, the sound of rage and desperation against the inevitable.

Their battering ram finally succeeds in tearing down my doors, but I do not turn. They have yet to merit my attention. Instead I examine the walls, fascinated by details in the carvings I'd never bothered to notice before. The emphasis of some physical characteristics and the disregard for others hints at sub- or un-conscious biases amongst -

"GINUNGAGAP," their leader shouts, interrupting my thoughts. "YOU ARE ACCUSED. You have murdered our fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, sons and daughters. Our herds are diseased and our crops won't grow. You have destroyed the world you claim to own! No god would do these things, and we will not be ruled by a man - leave this place and never return!"

Now they merit my attention.

I turn slowly to look at the intruders, numbering two dozen, my Ma'ehmaqi garb rustling slightly in the breeze my door once prevented. They're right - of course they're right. There are no gods, much less present, and if there were they most certainly wouldn't commit the crimes against nature that I have perpetrated.

I admit as much. They are stunned and lower their guard. They do not have time to correct this mistake.

I appear before the two rebels furthest left in the blink of an eye, grasping and crushing their throats instantly. The next three persons, close by, are reduced to piles of limbs as I unsheathe my glaive with a flourish that passes through skin and tissue without resistance.

Eight more fall to a storm born of my fingertips, their skin charring and crumbling in the onslaught, and with a gesture another five are yanked off their feet to clutch madly at windpipes snapped shut by unseen hands. I summon tendrils of pure Dark energy to strike down five more, every soft caress dissolving flesh and bone amidst screams of agony.

There is only one remaining - the one who challenged me.

He backs away from me, deeper into the Great Hall built by smarter creatures than he, and demands to know what I am if not a god. My performance had made a believer of him, but it's too late for that.

I begin to advance on him, the torches lining the length of the room casting twisted shadows from my person, and I tell him the truth. I am no god.

I am something far worse.

"Every fire turns to embers," I explain as though conducting a simple lesson, the torches behind me begin to flicker out, one by one.

"Every ember turns to ash." The torches near me follow suit.

"All ash turns to dust." The torches behind the retreating child-who-thinks-himself-a-man extinguish themselves and he trips, staring up at me in the dark.

"I am what happens next." He begins to flail as the stone floor beneath him fades from all senses, becoming shadow and velvet before vanishing altogether. He is surrounded first by blackness, then by nothing at all.

Without even the darkness to cling to, his screams echo forever.