Aaric arrived in his room within the mansion and sat on the edge of his bed, sinking into the mattress as he delved into his thoughts.
'How strong is Voldemort now?' Aaric asked in his mind.
{He seems to be at the magical capacity of a demigod of the Waking-Realms, yet without any divine power that would allow him to alter reality,} came the immediate, clinical reply.
'Impressive level of strength,' Aaric thought to himself, acknowledging the resourcefulness Voldemort possessed.
Voldemort was nothing compared to him now, but the Dark Lord had gained all that strength on his own, through sheer will and Dark rituals.
'Has he been able to hurt anyone recently?' Aaric followed up.
{He has only hurt some of his own Death Eaters since you gained the knowledge of your full capabilities with the skill Mani-Bindu,} the voice answered.
Aaric nodded slowly at the response. He had the Law Synthesis sub-skill that turned his words and desires into the absolute law of the Waking-Realms.
Because of that, he had stopped the death eaters and Voldemort from hurting people.
'Have any of his Death Eaters been able to hurt anyone?' Aaric continued his questioning, probing for gaps in the safety of the world.
{Not since you gained Mani-Bindu. However, they were able to kidnap a French woman shortly before that event,} the skill replied.
Aaric sighed, a heavy weight settling in his chest. 'What happened to her?' Aaric asked, bracing himself, though he was not ready for the blunt and matter-of-fact reply he was about to get.
{Some of the Death Eaters attempted to rape her. Lucius Malfoy barged into the room she was held in and killed her after using Legilimency on her, as she had wished to die rather than be humiliated. Lucius Malfoy then used 'disrespect towards Voldemort' as a pretense to justify the killing of the woman and ensured those involved were punished.}
Aaric sat stunned, chilled by how cold and direct the response was. The cruelty of the act and the twisted mercy of Lucius Malfoy swirled in his mind.
'What happened after?' Aaric asked after taking a deep, shuddering breath to compose himself.
{Her body is being used for necromancy research, and Lucius Malfoy went to her family to bring them some form of closure, likely through lies.} the voice concluded.
Aaric shook his head at the response. Even after death, she did not get any rest. Her body was a tool, her memory a lie told to grieving parents.
{I sense distress and sadness in you. However, because of the alliance Simon has made with the other countries and because of your continued presence, the death and suffering of innocents have been reduced by a large margin.}
Aaric was not comforted by the attempt of his skill to rationalize the tragedy. It did not know the nuance of human emotions, after all.
"Take me to the gods of this world," Aaric muttered out loud.
A portal formed in front of him the next second, tearing through the fabric of the room. Aaric did not hesitate for a second before entering it.
He was taken to the Outer Planes of his world, a space existing beside the very Divine Source of the world he lived in.
In front of him hovered a hunched, hooded figure. From its back sprouted pale, massive wings made not of feathers, but of tattered flesh and exposed bone.
"Death," Aaric nodded to the figure in greeting.
"Aaric Hawthorne," Death observed. His voice was raspy, and his breath sounded strained, as if the mere act of existing was an exhausting effort for an old man.
"Why have you visited here?" Death asked, his imposing, skeletal figure hovering silently above Aaric.
"Oh, I just thought I should visit the gods of the world I live in. Are there others beside you as well?" Aaric asked, waving his hand toward the surroundings before turning his gaze to the Divine Source.
He tilted his head in confusion when he found the well covered in thick, intricate webs.
"There is Fate," Death answered, gesturing with a bony hand toward the well.
Aaric glanced at Death before he walked toward the Divine Well and looked inside. The webs draped all over the well had Divine Seeds and Flowers tangled within them, trapped before they could bloom.
As Aaric peered deeper into the abyss of the well, he found a great, pale white spider weaving the webs with endless, meticulous care.
"Is it just the two of you then?" Aaric asked, looking back at the hooded figure.
"Since the beginning," was Death's raspy reply. "I was the first. Then came Fate, the Great Spider. She weaved her webs of causality and did not let any other god be formed. The world was her design before you entered it."
Death added this in a slow, laborious voice, as if speaking physically pained him.
Aaric nodded. The powers that facilitated his birth in this world were beyond even the comprehension of the Fate standing or rather, crawling in front of him.
That was the reason she was so helpless against him and could not manipulate his destiny. On top of that, Aaric was now much more powerful than her.
"She has been trying to assert her will against the changes you made to her design... However, the effort seems futile on her part," Death chuckled, a sound like dry leaves crumping.
"So the death of the woman was her fault?" Aaric asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the spider.
"Everything is her fault. Every birth, every triumph, every happiness, every sorrow. She chooses when someone's time ends, and I collect," Death answered, a hint of mockery lacing his voice.
Fate was who she was. She was not malicious or benevolent. She did not hold a vendetta against anyone, nor did she control every minute action.
Aaric realized he was just trying to blame someone divine for the woman's death because the alternative; that the only ones to blame were the men who had abducted her for their sick reasons was harder to swallow.
"Can I meet her? the woman." Aaric turned towards Death and asked.
"Do you wish to resurrect her?" Death asked back in a low voice.
Aaric did not hide his intentions and nodded firmly.
"Why did you not come to resurrect the child that just died a moment ago? Or the infant who could not even take a breath in this world? Perhaps you wish to resurrect the seven-year-old girl that died as we were speaking?" Death spoke with distinct contempt lacing every word.
"I have given up Pandora's soul not so long ago. And I am powerless if you ask for more. However, if you wish to resurrect the innocent? Why not every innocent that dies every instant?" Death added with a dismissive, sweeping wave of his hand.
Aaric did not speak. He could not. The sheer scale of the idea silenced him.
"Fate and Death are not enemies, Child. We are what gives life meaning," Death stated with a sigh when he saw the emotional turmoil on Aaric's face.
"What of free will?" Aaric asked, pointing an accusing finger at Fate.
"What of it? She does not make anyone evil. Neither does she make anyone virtuous. She weaves her threads in the direction guided by mortals," Death explained patiently, his voice growing gentler, losing some of its rasp.
"Didn't you just tell me she had been trying to go against me? Didn't she manipulate events to oppose me?" Aaric challenged back.
"You cornered those people, and they became more savage. She did not make them as they are. They chose the actions they committed," Death explained, still patient, like a teacher with a slow student. "It was her fate to die by Lucius Malfoy's hands because those men made the choice to take her."
"What about the Grootslang? One of you made him. Did you not?" Aaric asked.
By this point, Aaric was just trying to find a divine fault in the world because he did not wish to accept that humans were this wicked by choice. He wanted a god to blame.
"I made him because I wanted to make something," Death shrugged, the tattered fabric of his cloak moving with his actions.
Aaric opened his mouth to speak, but Death interrupted him.
"I put the creature in a cave. It was an animal that hurt those who entered its home," Death said, as if he knew exactly what Aaric was about to argue.
Aaric had nothing more to say now. He had arrived in front of the gods of his world to demand explanations and extract souls. However, all he got was the cold truth he had been too naive to accept.
Death took small, gliding steps toward Aaric before placing a cold, skeletal hand on his shoulder.
"I have watched you since your birth, Son. As I have seen everyone who was ever born on that planet. And I see you wish to see the good in people," Death whispered, his cold hand surprisingly comforting.
"I do not wish to discourage you from it. I have seen as much good as I have seen evil. And all of it was the will of people," Death explained and caressed Aaric's hair for a brief moment before he turned.
With a mighty flap of his pale wings, Death flew away into the void, leaving Aaric alone with the silent weaving of the Spider.
A/n: Give me your thought on the chapter and reviews on the fic.
And.. you got any power stones? Well, hand em over then.