No Consolation
[ Premise: following Axion’s rebirth into the largest universe yet known
Axion: At full power, some hundred thousand years into the universe (thus, early), he stretches out upon the universe’s expanse. And he knows, he knows if it becomes any greater, it will kill him.
Xenes: previously the darkest and longest time alone, distraught, willing to consume anything to find Axion in the new timeline. As the young universe grows, he feels and thinks nothing. ]
Axion turns, startled. He had wondered if he imagined that sound. Xenes’ hum is so low that Axion can scarcely feel it. They will not be joining today. Xenes tries to hold him, to put his eye on his heart, but simply phases through his glowing body. Trying to grasp his arms makes the same mistake. Axion cannot console him.
“Xenes.”
The pitch of his hum changes ever so slightly. A half octave? — no. pain. Axion knows Xenes can probably feel his hum, but can he hear his words? What might he be missing? They have never met this early.
A ripple in space. Xenes shimmers. Dark. For a moment his red core is not even present. He looks up at Axion, and Axion is relieved to see a faint blue reflection within the void.
“You can hear my thoughts?”
Another shimmer. The optic tries to burn red, but fades quickly. Ecstasy.
“Why are you here in such a state?”
The optic closes. Though he cannot feel them, Axion sees his tendrils circle him. Engulfing, as they had once. Hands cusped just shy of his horns. Another low...stars, it sounded awful. Axion understands. How long he must have slept while the last stars died, reduced to stone, while Xenes remained until the end of it. Axion mirrors Xenes with his wings. Hands hover around his chin. More red. The eye opens as he leans in. Axion looks into it, hoping Xenes can read his solemn expression.
“I’m sorry, Xenes. I saw the beginning...this one will not be any shorter. But we may have more time together when your strength returns.”
Axion wondered if Xenes could feel the white lie. They would live as they always had, but soon there would be no consolation in return. Before long, reality would go on forever, and it would not take him with it.
—----------------
There. His core burst with feeling at the sight of his brilliant blue. He was here. He existed. The distance mattered not. He was everywhere. A blink, and his core would be across this magnificent universe in axion’s arms.
Axion shines brighter than ever. His hum must be extraordinarily high, for he can scarcely feel it. A young star forms before them. So small. Xenes does not wait for Axion to detect the hum of his approach. As Axion turns, he tries to bury his face into his heart. Wrap his arms around Axion’s core. He feels nothing. He keeps trying.
“Xenes.”
Axion’s voice. He missed him so much. He had to hold him now. A low stream of despair bleeds into his song when he sees Axion’s hands try and fail to hold him. His sight goes for a moment. Void no. He mustn’t lose sight of him too. He is still, and looks up when his sight returns. That blue. There was no blue at the end of time.
“You can hear my thoughts?”
Ecstasy. Space brightens when Axion speaks.
“Why are you here in such a state?”
He closes his optic as the words take him to heaven. But their meaning. He looks again and slowly moves his tendrils around Axion. His hands hover around those horns. Symmetrical. Xenes has to shut his eye and look down to hide his expression —a silent scream— as the painful emotion once again takes over his song. He was far too early; no voice. But what good were words, anyway. Nothing could describe his longing.
Movement on the side, his light receptors say as the star’s fire is obstructed. Xenes longed to feel space churn with those wings; the thought would have to do. He turns his face upwards again to gauge proximity. His hands around my skull. I can imagine that too. He opens his eye again when blue overtakes his mind. His eyes were so close. So blue, beautiful, and sad. Did he understand?
“I’m sorry, Xenes. I saw the beginning...this one will not be any shorter. But we may have more time together when your strength returns.”
Xenes blinks. That is true, supposedly. A vast universe means they will have more time to meet at ample strength. But he would not so easily wait billions of years to see axion again, least of all the trillion eons after he faded with matter again.
He looked at the star.
“Before it dies? Alright. Please rest. Watch me. Wait for me.”
The whole of reality blueshifted. Xenes dissipated, but Axion remained the same.
Watch him. Always. Wait for him; even longer.
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