Day One:
The Plan
There was nothing but shocked silence as Valdesh backed away from the podium, got off the stage and then proceeded to exit the auditorium. Things remained that way for a minute, two, three. Then, everyone began speaking at once, shouting panicked questions.
“Wait, who’s gonna lead us now?!”
“He’s always been the Headmaster! What the hell is he thinking, leaving us with no one to take care of us?!”
“What the bloody fuck is going on?!”
“How is the Academy going to function without him?!”
“What’s going to happen to us?!”
Rastesunyo, the blind swordsman who served as the assistant Headmaster, dashed to the stage and the podium. “Students, report to your dorms immediately! Emergency staff meeting, here and now!”
Within a few minutes, the students were back in their dorms (thanks in large part to the demonic bus driver known only as Speed) and only the staff remained. Still, the panicking and excitement and confusion continued. Rasetsunyo desperately tried to get their attention.
“Excuse me……Could you please……Will everyone just…QUIET!!!”
The noise died instantly at the sound of his authoritative bellow.
“Everyone, please calm yourselves. We may not realize it yet, but this must be what’s best for the Academy. Otherwise, Valdesh wouldn’t be doing it.”
“Rubbish!” shouted the aged British chemistry teacher, Professor Monty Basarov. “If this was what was best, ‘e could of at least left someone in charge as the new ‘eadmaster!”
“As much as I hate to admit it, Monty’s got a point, Rasetsunyo,” pointed out Ms. Bertha Thomas, the bearded lunch-lady.
“Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves, everyone?” asked André Garnier, an oni of French descent and the junior English teacher. “Le code of emergency conduct states that, should le Headmaster become incapable of running le school, le Assistant Headmaster takes their place.”
“No…” Rasetsunyo explained. “I’ve turned down the position every time it was offered to me, from back in the early 1900’s to now. I do not believe myself capable of the task.”
“Then what, good man, do you propose?” spoke a quiet, dark voice from the back of the room. The others turned their attention to the demon who had his feet propped up on the row in front of the one he was sitting in. His wine-colored eyes, demon though he was, showed no malice, and in fact glowed with concern. “If you have a suggestion, please inform us, Rasetsunyo. We do not mean to jump down your throat…but we are worried. What is to become of us, a crew without a captain, aboard a ship now lost at sea?”
“Styx…I don’t know, all right? The only thing I do know is that I myself am not fit to be the new Headmaster…” Rasetsunyo grew silent for a moment, head bowed in thought. After a minute or so, he said, “Perhaps…Perhaps I have an idea.”
Valdesh was taking one of the rarely used, quite possibly unknown, staircases down to the library. Having built this school himself centuries ago, he knew every nook and cranny, every hall and staircase. Being the Creator helped on those rare occasions he forgot where something was. Of course, he didn’t feel all-powerful now. If anything, he felt below even the lowest of animals, because at least those creatures could protect their young from danger.
He had been beating himself up over this fact for three days and nights straight now. How could he, Creator of this, the Thirteenth Universe, misplace his one and only son, be unable to find him for two days of rigorous searching, and be incapable of finding the child’s soul once he found the body? And, worse, how could he not have known what the devil had happened to him? What kind of Creator would lose track of the one thing that truly mattered?
He couldn’t hold it in anymore; he sat down on the stairs and began to weep openly. Things just kept piling up--first, his parents (along with the rest of his “home” universe), then Uncle (the man who chose him to be the Thirteenth Creator, then vanished mysteriously when Valdesh had hit puberty), next, his beloved (he was only the second Creator in all history to lose his spouse before the Destruction), and now his heir. Besides being an overwhelming emotional blow, he had now put himself into a position that not even the Outer Beings (or Outsiders, as they preferred to be called) could help to rectify--when (it was never a question of if, it was always a when) Apocalypse came, there would be no new Creator…No new universe. Only the Outer Plane would be left, and who knew how long it would stand against the wrath of the Dark Knight? All history and all creation and all time would end, and it would all be Valdesh’s fault.
Unless…
Valdesh abruptly stopped weeping, the thought slowly working it’s way out from the deepest, darkest recess of his mind.
Unless…
A glimmer or hope remained after all. All he would have to do is grant his powers to someone else, someone with a child. After that, all that would be required was his death, to make sure his powers wouldn’t come back to him.
This had never been tried before, and it was risky. In fact, the Outsiders had warned him, in his early days, to never even think of something this radical. But he could see no way around it, no other options. This was the last--
“No.”
Valdesh started, wondering where that voice had come from. Suddenly, a figure snapped into view. He didn’t recognize the newcomer, but he recognized his entrance as that of a being outside of space and time.
An Outsider.
“You were the one chosen to create and lead this universe. It’s your own fault it has begun to work against you, but that doesn’t give you a right to back out of your responsibilities.”
Valdesh was bitter, angry. “What do you know? How could you possibly have any idea of what I’m going through?!” he shouted.
“I know EXACTLY the trials and tribulations of your position…For I am Vulca.”
“Vulca…?” Valdesh racked his brain for the name. “…The Fourth Creator?! High Lord of Grief and Sorrow?!”
“I was called those things once…After the End of my universe, I became an Outer Being, and I now preside over the emotions and feelings of loss and sadness. So I, more than anyone else in Existence, know what you are going through.”
“Have you ever lost a child?”
“…No.”
“Then you can’t even begin to comprehend my pain. Being the Lord of Sorrow doesn’t mean you actually feel the sorrow.” Then, cynically, he added, “Besides, isn’t this universe mine to do as I see fit with?”
“So stubborn…Fine. If words cannot convince you…” A large battle hammer appeared in his left hand. “Perhaps violence will.”
“You intend to force me to comply?”
“I was sent to stop you from doing anything rash by any means necessary.”
“……Fine.” Valdesh’s twin Elvish blades materialized into his hands. “If I must fight to get you to leave me, then so be it.”
