Alik'rian Nights: Volume The First: Of Adamant And Beyond: Part 7: The End And The Beginning

They ascended the last set of stairs and stood before the entrance of the final chamber. Our Scarab looked at Tiber Septim, who nodded grimly in readiness. They pushed open the heavy door and stepped into a wide circular room with high vaulted ceilings. The walls were smooth and there was no cover whatsoever. In the center of the chamber rested a perfectly black amorphous blob.
“Nihilangelo, we have come for Mnemoli and to end your devilish plot to end all things!” our Scarab challenged the form.
The darkness raised its head slightly “Do not call me this, Nihilangelo.” it spat, its wretchedly deep and booming voice resonating throughout the chamber. “I am not a thing, like that which can be named. I am the personification of nothingness, inexistance incarnate. I am that which a vacuum rushes to fill. Rocks. Dream. Of Meeeeee…” it smoldered as it rose, like the silhouette of a cobra, with his arms outstretched, its shadowy form being the height of three men.
But the Seprine refused to be intimidated. “If you are nothing, as you say, then how are you here?”
Nihilangelo burst into shocked laughter. “You cannot bring something from nothing without paying the price. I am that price. When your universe split from the void, I was formed as an inverted parody. All is, and must be, zero. I am the world’s antiweight and counterbalance. Because you are, I am NOT.”
“If our existence is what brings you into being, (or perhaps, antibeing) then why are you seeking to destroy the world? Would that not also destroy yourself?” Tiber asked him.
“Precisely!” Nihilangelo cooed. “I was ripped out from the peace of non-being and helplessly thrust into this place. Until everything is unmade, I cannot return to my rest. A place of such perfect quiet, there will not even be silence.”
“And how is it that you plan on doing this thing? Is the death of Mnemoli the end, or the means to an end?” our Scarab questioned.
“You already know the answer to that,” Nihilangelo scoffed before pausing. “Or did your father/brother Lorkhan not tell you? It was he which showed me this path.”Tiber Septim and our Scarab looked at each other in confusion. What did he mean?
Nihilangelo laughed at them as he relished the idea of taking their innocent virtue. “Indeed, Mnemoli’s death will serve a greater purpose. Her murder will end this dream and unmake everything which is, but I have done so before. Do you think this is the first universe I have undone? No, there have been many such places, but perhaps this will finally be the last.
“You see, as Lorkhan and I fought, I told him also of this. He told me that were I to succeed, there would be as yet nothing to stop the Dreamer which sits behind the light at the top of the tower from dreaming her again. But were I to reach the Dreamer, and wake him from his slumber, there will nevermore be a dream, and I will finally be at peace. This he taught me and drew my attention to the height.
“For the moment, I am trapped in this tower which is the body of Mnemoli, who is in turn the Dreamer’s dream. The godhead Dreamer can never truly be reached, since the tower is infinite in scope and cannot truly be ascended. But if the tower is destroyed, then at long last, I can reach the great light and the godhead Dreamer to end existence once and for all.”
“No,” our Scarab resolved. “We will shatter your plans and defeat you. The world shall not end this day, nor any other.”
Nihilangelo chuckled quietly, the light in the room visibly darkening as he did. “You cannot stop me, little fool. Do you think your weapons will have any effect on I who am nothing? Try to strike me, if you can, and then I shall show you what nothing can do.”
Simultaneously, our Scarab and the Emperor lunged forward to destroy the darkness, but as it had predicted, their weapons passed through the black as if nothing were there, for nothing was there indeed.
Undisturbed, Nihilangelo passed its hand over the face of the Seprine and let him feel his infinite emptiness. Our Scarab thought that the darkness would not affect him, but on the contrary it seemed nothing could inflict unimaginable feelings.
It was an embarrassing cold, like being stripped naked before a vengeful mob. It was cold in a way that nothing real could ever be. Even to use the word cold to describe its sensation would be deception; for by using the word, it implies that any type of cold you could ever experience might somehow possibly be a sufficient metaphor to explain its absoluteness. The effect stabbed through him even beyond his meat and marrow; his very spirit being overcome with its shame.
Its vacuum ripped and pulled at him from every direction, as if his meager substance were being forced to fill an infinite space. It was like unto the feeling one can know by sucking the air from a glass, but the smothering existential viscousness of its reality was overwhelmingly more profound. He fell to his knees as his very soul screamed and wept in inexpressible agony.
Nihilangelo leaned down to whisper in his ear. “This is what your world does to me every moment, of every day, of every eon, unending. It is the guilt I feel from not having destroyed you sooner. Would you wish this fate upon anyone, even I?”
The Seprine staggered away from the pain. This context made him question his own motives. How could he inflict such suffering on another without making himself Nihilangelo’s twin? But no, it must be done. For to spare the darkness would be to force its pain upon the rest of the world. He was loath to risk feeling such agony again, but as terrible as it was, the greater suffering would be to allow Nihilangelo to achieve his goals. If sparing the world meant suffering the wrath of the darkness, he would feel it for them. Unless…?
“It is not I who places that guilt upon you Shadow, but yourself. You were once nothing, but I have felt what you are. It was your own guilt that made you into the profane thing standing against the universe. Do not seek to transfer the debt of your own actions onto me to justify yourself. Your being is contrary to your purpose. Release your guilt and vanish.”
Nihilangelo became enraged and attacked them. Both Tiber Septim and our Scarab scattered around the room. Any attempts to strike the darkness were futile, but the longer they survived his onslaught, the greater the chance of finding some means to end this battle.
“Fools!” the darkness roared. “I exist because your being compels me to! Admit that I am a product of your own making. If you hate me, hate first yourself! I am but the bitter part of your own deepest soul which yearns for self destruction; seeking to quench the festering fire of injustice which burns in a heart that cries out in shame for innumerable lusted over depravities.”
“Stop!” A voice suddenly cried. Both men, as well as Nihilangelo, ceased fighting momentarily to try and find the source of the strange exclamation. Far against one side of the room, one of Nihilangelo’s aspects passed through the wall. “Do not seek to heap guilt upon them.”
Perplexed and angry, Nihilangelo asked the aspect for the meaning of his intrusion. The shade responded by describing the first of the three trials. He had made the boy guilty in separating him from his mother, but in taking his place, the Seprine removed the guilt of both. The men's innocence protected them from his attacks, but in trying to impart guilt unto them, it laid more guilt at his own doorstep. Guilt perpetuates itself against itself and increases its own suffering. In trying to condemn them, Nihilangelo only condemns himself. His actions are contrary to themselves. Abandon guilt and return to innocence, or you will heap destruction only upon yourself.
“How dare you speak these words against me, you who are a sliver of my essence!” Nihilangelo said, aghast. The great shade turned from the men, furiously seeking to destroy his aspect. The lesser shade stood valiantly against his maker, but Nihilangelo swallowed him up nevertheless.
Our Scarab and Tiber Septim were shocked by what had just transpired, even as the dark form rose from his feast. But as the blackness stood, it was somehow different from before. He wasn’t as imposing as he had seemed.
Was he, somehow, smaller? Yes, when they had first encountered him, the darkness stood the height and breadth of three men, yet now his stature was of only two. Both Tiber Septim and the Seprine emboldened themselves as Nihilangelo lunged for them again. If he could be diminished, then perhaps he could indeed be defeated.
“Your efforts are as fruitless as a barren spinster!” Nihilangelo screamed. This battle was no longer a game to him, and he drove after them furiously. The warriors suffered many blows from the darkness, but as one became unbalanced by the pangs and throes of anguish and misery, the other would taunt the spirit and lead him away. “Your struggle is in vain, mongrel spawn of fallen champions. You think you are superior to your foreselves? None before you had the strength to defeat me, nor do you now. The only way to be my end is to end yourself. Succumb to the nihil and be at peace!”
“Our progenitors did not defeat you and your ploys Nihilangelo, but neither did you truly defeat them;” Tiber Septim countered as he leapt past the spirit’s strikes. “Were you able to murder Mnemoli before we had fallen, you would have done so already.”
The nothingness roared in indignation. “And what? Shall we continue this conflict unto eternity? I think you not so simple to believe that is a satisfactory outcome. Already you tire, decrepit thing; the inbreeding of the ages has abused you indeed! This battle has but one outcome, with the only question being how long you suffer. Your strife profits you nothing. You cannot win against me, for my defeat and my success are synonymous. Death is the only solution. Just give up!”
“You are wrong!” The voice of the second aspect cried as it intruded into the fight.
“What are these vexing irritations?!” Nihilangelo questioned in exasperation.
“I set before these two a task which was contrary to its attainment. From where I offered the challenge, there was no possibility of triumph, and the only recourse was acquiescing to futility; Yet they still succeeded. I meant one thing, but they showed me its true meaning. They gave me a new perspective which I would never had found without them, for I never would have looked. We already had that which we sought. They suffered through the trial, yes; but in doing so, they learned the secret to its transcendence. Just because you cannot see another way, does not mean one does not lay hidden. What have you learned during your quest for annihilation Nihila...”
“Stop your tongue, oh treasonous limb!” The void ghost interrupted as he consumed his own shadow. Once again, the depraved black form was reduced from his wrath. Now on par with the two men in volume, Nihilangelo had lost none of his potent furiosity. He lashed out in reckless abandon as only an immortal with nothing to lose can emulate. Even as he struck them again and again, never did the emperor or our Scarab relent.
“WHY DO YOU NOT SURRENDER?! END THIS!” the darkness screamed. “What do you fight for, but more suffering? Answer ME!”
“We fight not to relieve our own agony, but to relieve the anguish of the world whom we love!” our Scarab retorted.
“Love?!?” Nihilangelo laughed indignantly. “What is love but another term for suffering? Have you not felt this even more than I? Love is brief as breath and beauty; always ending quickly, and only in loss, betrayal, rejection, and solitude. What other end could there be? The only one spared this fate is the youthful corpse. If you love the world as you say, then ease their suffering by returning them to the peace of the void. Where is your love if you only leave them to wallow in their torment?”
“Again your words defeat themselves. Spare them from betrayal by betraying them? I will not be the one to instigate this, nor will I betray the love of them within myself. If, for their sake, torment be my lot, it is affliction much welcomed. This love is worthy of suffering, and no matter how you flay us, you can never take our reward.”
The darkness scoffed at these words. “If anything, the only worthy love is for the self, for at least you can keep it until the end. But if love is relief of suffering, then murder-suicide is the ultimate form of it. Do you not see that love and hate end the same? We dance in squared circles lowly scarab; all the answers lead to contradiction. Your arguments stand upon a vacuum.”
“Not so!” the third aspect proclaimed. “I tried to destroy their love by mating it with its opposite, but they refused to surrender by surrendering, and I found it could not be unmade. Love is unique in that when met with its antithesis, it need not be undone. Meet hate with hate and both are destroyed, but meet steadfast love with hate, and it is not diminished. Moreover, hate falters when its enemy returns its violence with kindness, for it is hard to hate someone that truly loves you. Love therefore is multiplied.”
“Verily, it is so Nihilangelo.” Tiber Septim chimed in. “We do not hate you as you hate us. We don’t wish your suffering anymore than we would wish it on ourselves. Our only cause for fighting is that you seek to destroy others whom we love. Were it in our power to free you from your agony, we would do so.”
“But you can’t!” Nihilangelo roared. “You need me if you want to live, and I won’t allow you. You must pay the debt of existence. Your world came from nothing and the only way to stand afield of zero is on the legs of your antiself. When death meets life, they become nothing. Only at zero can an integer not fear for its position.”
“Indeed,” The aspect agreed. “But there is a perpendicular solution. If you take the root of an antithesis, you create something that rises above the line and rests afield of zero; but is neither positive nor negative. Is not all the dream of the godhead? By way of analogy, this means that Love can be its own foundation, and a universe based on love needs no counterbalance.”
“No!” Nihilangelo roared, ultimately enraged. Blinded by offence, he struck down his own aspect. As he swallowed himself up, he diminished into diminishing. He who was nothing became divided against himself, and you cannot divide by zero. As the last traces of him became undefined, a final word was spoken, “Ppppeeeeaaaaccceeeeeeeee…………”, and he was gone.
With The Darkness no longer present, the room became alight. There was no more trace of evil; it had destroyed itself. As the two men looked on in wonder, a door opened at the far end of the room. It was finished.
In victory, the two men embraced and wept for joy, but they didn’t tarry a moment longer than necessary; Mnemoli awaited.

They rushed up to the next level to find a young woman, beautiful beyond description, seated in the center of the floor, staring up into the light that shone upon the height. She was completely transfixed and partially transparent.
Our Scarab approached her and called her by name, but there was no response. “You must awaken, Mnemoli, for the world needs your return.”
“What?” She asked, but did not alter her gaze.
“The world needs you to return, it is in ruin without you. You must return with us to restore it.”
“I don’t understand. Why does the world need saving?” She inquired again, all but indifferent to him.
“Because there were those that sought its destruction, and yours.” He explained, puzzled by her questions.
“No. Why should the world be saved? What is its meaning?” She corrected herself.
Our Scarabs heart broke at these words. After all this, did Nihilangelo still reign? His eyes filled with tears as he spoke. “No, NO! It must be saved! Because… because… because it must be saved.” He cried as more emotion welled up inside him. She was the world. His world. And she didn’t know what she was for. “Because; because I love you, and will not idly sit by and let you fall unfought for into the darkness!”
“Me?” She turned to look at him. For a moment she did not recognize him, but as the spell was broken, her form solidified and a smile grew upon her face. Then she collapsed.
Panicked, our Scarab picked her up and cradled her face. This whole ordeal exhausted her. She looked up at him again in confusion and asked what had happened. He explained to her about Nihilangelo’s attempt to destroy her, but they had defeated him and come to her rescue. The world had nearly been lost by her absence, and they must return immediately.
She was quickly recovering from the experience and becoming more aware by the moment. She looked within herself and saw what the darkness had done to the universe. In horror, she perceived its degradation and mourned the terrible plight. But our Scarab comforted her, and said that if she returned, they could end the decline. Mnemoli agreed, and tried to stand. She was still weak, but our Scarab and Tiber Septim helped her to her feet.
She thanked them, and caressed their faces, apologizing to them for what they had gone through. It should never have been, but what was done was now done. It was time for them to return.
Tiber Septim bid them farewell, but despite their success, he still seemed disheartened. They asked him why he was so downcast, but he smiled and tried to make light his disappointment. He had come to this place because he had felt that here was the answer to the danger his legion was in. While they had done much to repair the damage to the world, he still had no means to help that which was, to be frank, his trivial problem.
Without thinking, he glanced up toward the light at the apex of the tower. Both Mnemoli and our Scarab shouted in alarm and made Tiber Septim jump. But he did not become transfixed by the light and could look up and down again as if it were no matter. Startled, they asked him how he could do this.
Tiber shook his head, for he did not know. He said that the light was beautiful, yes. But it did not seem as captivating as he had thought. He looked up at the light, then looked through the eye and said “When I look up into its glory, I somehow see less than I was told. For when I peer into its light, I can only see my legion.” And as he spoke these words and glanced into the never ending space above them, he was lifted up into the air. As our Scarab and Mnemoli watched in bewilderment, the emperor ascended faster and faster until he reached the infinite apex and danced upon the height.
The two remaining both looked at each other in shock. How was this possible? The Tower, which is the wheel of creation, is unending. No matter how many steps you could climb, there were always just as many above you as there were before. Mnemoli gasped as she came to an epiphany. She finally understood. The light at the top of the Tower was of infinite distance and could never be reached. But if you looked beyond its radiance toward something even more beautiful, you could suddenly find yourself in places beyond anything you could ever imagine.
Suddenly, she knew what needed to be done. The mistakes of the past needn’t be the final word. Everything could still be saved! Our Scarab still didn’t fully understand, but Mnemoli insisted that he trust her.
“Come,” She said. “I am your unsurpassing beauty and reward. Yes, Come hither and dream a new dream of me!” She sang as she too began to rise. Captivated by her loveliness, our Scarab felt himself caught up into the air. She looked down at him in gladness as they accelerated into the upper reaches. The levels of the Tower flew past at an ever-increasing rate as they shattered all the known limits of the universe, breaking even passed the luminal barrier beyond which nothing can pass.
As they left behind the ‘I’ of the Tower and reached the eye that shone down upon the world from above, our Scarab suddenly found himself standing in a room of pale blue mist. A gathering of eight stood congregating around a ninth, which knelt beaten and bloodied in their center. A mighty one of the eight held a great sword above the one that sat in condemnation. Our Scarab suddenly recognized the bloodied one. It was Lorkhan! The gods had not yet made their betrayal, murdering him and taking his heart!
“Stop!” Mnemoli shouted, as if thunder.
The convention turned to face them in shock. “What are they doing here?” The mighty one demanded to know.
“Unhand your prisoner!” She commanded.
“Who are you to make this demand of us?” Akatosh asked.
Lorkhan very nearly jumped to his feet in delight. “It is her! She is the one of whom I spoke!” He yelled. Our Scarab confirmed his words and said that the struggle was over. The fight was done.
The mighty one was not dissuaded though. “This may or may not be so, but what of the crimes of the prisoner? Should they go unpunished?”
With the utmost confidence, Mnemoli asked (almost rhetorically) what crimes he had committed.
The mighty one said that the blood of their fallen kin was witness to Lorkhan’s atrocities. What witnesses did Mnemoli have to contradict these claims. She told him that no crime has been committed. With her return, the sacrifice of their kin had not been necessary. She told the eight assembled in convention to look around.
As suddenly as she spoke, a great cloud of witnesses appeared to fill the entire hall. It was the Magna-Ge and all the Ehlnofey. As the eight gaped in shock and wonder, Mnemoli went over to unbind the waiting Lorkhan.
As the seven of the eight went to greet those they had thought lost, Aka came over to the now free prisoner with tears in his eyes. “Brother,” He said. “I cannot express my sorrow at what we have done. I feared I would go mad once we had done this thing.”
As a god of few words, Lorkhan embraced Aka and forgave him. The Dragon God of Time pronounced that everything Lorkhan had lost was restored to him, now that Truth had returned.
Mnemoli moved to stand at the center of the innumerable host. “Come,” she implored them. “It has been too long since you have all walked the creation which was the work of your hands. See what this Scarab has wrought.”

With a wave of her hand, they found themselves standing atop the Adamantine Tower overlooking the sea. It was still dark, but the light in the east signaled the approaching day. They moved to the edge as a massive form began to rise from the bay. It was Anumidium! Lorkhan, being helped over by Aka and Mnemoli, looked boldly at the Dwemer’s artificial contraption of brass and gears; laughing at their feeble attempt at godhood.
“That which is mine and mine alone is denied to you!” he shouted for all the world to hear. Abruptly, Anumidium began to stumble.
“Alas, my heart! What have you done?” The metal colossus cried out in anguish, clutching its chest. “This cannot be! Why have you done this thing? Do you not understand that I was your savior? It was I who was to unmake the world…” The automation wept as it died.
The great weight of its bulk was no longer supported by the magic contained in the heart, and it ripped itself apart as it collapsed into the sea. A great wave crashed against the shore and the assembled gods began to clap, yet it was not over Anumidium’s defeat that they applauded.
Our Scarab looked over to see the divines standing to the side as the first glimpse of the sun signaled the arrival of the dawn’s beauty. Six ages had passed since they had last beheld such an event, and even for an immortal, that is a long time.
With the much anticipated moment now passed, the gods began to disperse. Mnemoli, Aka, and Lorkhan came over to speak once more with our Scarab.
They offered their thanks, but as Aka looked upon him, he wondered how such a thing had come to be. There Aka stood, as stood Lorkhan, yet before them stood another, who was both of them, yet neither. How could this be? Manifestly, a new song was being sung. Our Scarab had transcended their boundaries and transformed into a New Man unto himself.
He had done that which the gods themselves had been incapable, and had not only saved the universe from impending annihilation, but moreover had ensured that it was eternally safe from ever facing such a fate again. For that, they now owed him not only their gratitude, but also their allegiance. He was the greatest of them and the only one worthy to sit upon the throne. The god of time and the god of space removed their crowns, combining them even as they rested it upon his brow.
The New Man was humbled by the mantle which was now seated upon him and he did not know what to say. Aka asked him what he planned on doing next. Would he return to Mundus to walk with the mortals once more, or would he come to rule from Aetherius with the divines?
The New Man shook his head. His heart still lay with the earth and there was much left to accomplish. The three gods were saddened by this, but understood his motivations. It was no matter. Now that the boundaries between heaven and earth had been dissolved, they were all free to travel hither and thither between them.
Mnemoli and Lorkhan left, but Aka paused to reflect with the New Man a moment more. The tale of the Towers, which had been the story of creation since the beginning of time, was now done, but an everlasting unendingness stood open before them, the mistakes of history wiped clean. The parade of cycles is ended and all creation flies on hyperbolic paths. What new tales would this new song bring?

This is the end. And The Beginning!

I was overawed and elated as Greatpapa finished. “That is the whole tale?” I asked in wonder, but he laughed at me.
“No, small child. That is but one tale among many, many more!” He explained. “I told you only what you needed to know in order to understand who he was, and what he had done for us all.
“There are innumerable details I neglected in order to do this. I said nothing of how he finally ended the war with the Aldmeri, nor how he had turned all their allies against them to bring them under his own banner. Nor did I tell you how he forged our great Republic and expanded our borders to encompass the whole of Tamriel, even unto the farthest corners of the world.
“I said nothing of his first trip to Yakuda and how he restored the continent from its watery curse. I did not mention hardly anything of how he assumed control of the various trade guilds and reformed them into the mighty and honorable institutions which we now enjoy.
“By His Name, I mentioned not even a whisper of how he conquered the lords of Oblivion and made himself sovereign over their number. But even these stories are but the highlights of oh so many more things he accomplished during his travels. I could never tell you them all.”
“Will you tell me what you can? At least the ones you mentioned?” I begged. Greatpapa smiled at me and took me into his arms.
“I will indeed little one, as you wish. For you are the one whom I love.”

All this was but the beginning of a life long task of learning everything I could about our Holy Suzerain. It took Greatpapa many more years to tell me what he could, and I have spent many more years discovering more. I have even had the honor of sitting at His very feet to hear his tales from his own perspective. I know my task will never be completed, for even as he lives eternal, new stories are always being written; some more fantastic and wondrous even than this. I hope I have imparted some of my own love and passion of him unto you. Hear this and always remember. Each day is always brighter than the previous, and the best is even now yet to come.