She sits atop the highest point she could find, staring down numbly at the sickening stillness below. This world had died long ago, and now it would be crumbled into dust to serve the machinations of her Master. It’s final death observed only by her and her Master, yet to be remembered only by her. She supposed there was something poetic in her watch. This self-imposed duty she bore if only because no one else would or could.
The presence of her Master rumbles in the back of her mind, a muffled tidal wave of chaos-ridden energy. He warns her of his approach. As if she could not feel the weight of his self-made gravity, could not hear the slow march of his widening jaws, though they were out of sight. He would consume this dead planet, as he had done with thousands before, and would continue to until this universe ended.
A dark balance, with her Master as this universes scapegoat. How many had laid their grievances at her Master’s feet? How many more would curse his name and fear his presence? Without ever considering that perhaps, his work was necessary? Would the entire universe turn, unknowing of his sacrifice, all too willing to declare his work cruel and villainous? Would anyone else ever try to understand what he must do to keep the universe turning? That for new life to bloom the old and decaying had to leave?
For a split second, she hates those nameless numerous souls. The millions of mortals that hate her Master without ever thinking to look past his terrible image, to see how important and necessary his role was. It burned like a terrible star in her chest, but on her next breath, it collapsed into nothing. How could they understand? With such short and simple lives, unbothered by the complexities of reality?
Her Master’s mind brushes over hers, soothing in it’s pressure. Charna, her Master whispers, gentle even as the planet begins rattling and cracking under his hands and teeth. Let go. Let hatred wash from your mind. Chaos may burn in your blood, but never forget you are my void, my dark calm. Hatred is beneath you.
Charna. A name meaning darkness, blackness. A name either stolen from or the inspiration for the name down on a little planet she was only vaguely aware of. She wasn’t sure, but regardless of it’s origins, it was her name. A name uttered by the majority of the universe in burning hatred or blind terror. For a moment, Charna imagined one of the denizens of that distant planet of children coming into the universe, only to be told their name was an ill omen. The name of a Dark God’s herald.
Oh, she could almost see how they’d be shamed and ostracized. Cut away like a disease until they chose a new name, or fled into the welcoming darkness that would consume and destroy them. To share a name with a her — the universe would never forgive them. Nor the ones who had gifted such a name.
Her Master had held many names and titles across space and time. The Dark God (though many others had held that title). Planet- shatterer. Cosmos devourer. Chaos Incarnate. The End of the World. Darkness and Evil Incarnate. So many names, so many descriptions. It was amazing how many words could be used to describe only half of her Master’s life. Of course, few were allowed, or lived long enough, to truly see the rest. To see what she saw. Or perhaps she was just bias with her Master. Her Creator. The first being she had loved.
A wall of kinetic energy washes over Charna, violently pulling her out from her reverie. She raises her head, massive dark metallic wings fluttering behind her, and watches her Master dig deeper into the planet. The world quakes, cracks splitting into giant chasms with unseen bottoms. She watches as the remaining bones of the flora fall flat, the gravity of her Master bringing everything towering to crash to the ground.
Including the mountain she’d taken as a seat.
Charna leaps to her feet as the mountain trembles, peering over the edge to watch the stone crack and a massive cloud of dust rush up to meet her. With a sigh Charna spreads her wings and launches herself into the air. A pity, she thinks. She’d hoped to linger a little longer.
Charna rises higher and higher, fighting the tug of the collapsing and intertwining gravity of her Master and the dead planet. Her wings flick in irritation as she watches the planet split apart and crumble under her Master’s power. Every shard — every former piece of long dead life — slips past his teeth and down his throat. All under her violet gaze.
In the cold of space, she hovers over the destruction. She soars, cradled and kept out of harms way by a fraction of her Master’s power. He is ever vigilant, even as he feeds. Tearing apart what had once been home to thousands, maybe even millions of lives.
An ache, familiar, both welcomed and hated, blooms in her chest. For a second, Charna’s eyes burn, but the feeling dissipates on her next blink. How long had it been since she’d last cried? Her mind wonders, while her gaze remains captivated by the planets final death. Committing every detail as the planet’s remains grow smaller and smaller. She almost wishes she would cry, could release this ache she will likely only managed to hold onto until the planet is gone.
Doesn’t the passing of life deserve tears? If no one weeps for the loss, did it truly matter? If no one misses it, does that lesson it’s importance in the universe? Charna thinks, still watching the planet crumble, and tries to cling to that bubble of sorrow.
But then the feeling passes, as all things do, as Charna hovers before her Master’s maw as he swallows the final crumbs of the planet. A sigh, both physical and telepathically uttered, falls from her Master’s fanged mouth. The feeling of satisfaction and contentment washes over Charna’s senses, soothing her aches, both physical and not.
Come, chaos mine. Her Master calls, lowering one massive hand. She goes without hesitation, shivering as her Master’s pulse rises from beneath her feet and echoes up her spine and down to the tips of her wings. Charna hums, wings curling about her like a cloak as she sits. Her Master pulls his hand close, cradling her to his massive chest as he warps the space around them. They teleport, disappearing from the now empty space back to his home at the very center of the universe.
There, and only there, does her Master close his eyes and dim his awareness of the physical plane. Only here is he completely safe. Only with her does he relax, certain she will protect his body until he wakes from digesting his latest meal. Even though he doesn’t actually need her too. Her Master would sense the approach of another soul long before she would. Still, she appreciates his consideration for giving her something to do to slow the climb of the inevitable boredom.
Charna hums, peaking out from between his mountainous fingers to stare out into the void, gaze shifting from one distant star to the next. She watches the universe turn, surrounded by her Master’s heartbeat, and smiles.
Later, she will rise and fly about her Master, mapping out his celestial form for the millionth time. Later, she will reach out and twist the chaos of the void before her, testing and training her powers for the next time her Master will need her. Later, she will be his steadfast warrior and herald. The chaotic demoness the universe wanted her too be.
For this moment in time however, she will rest with her Master. Held in the hands of her Creator, Charna dreams. She dreams of darkness and chaos, of past battles and future wars, of equilibrium that no mortal will ever understand. But mostly, she basks in the warmth and pressure of her God, and dreams of the parts of him only she will ever witness.