Echoes of Divinity
1701 Words
The cosmos stirred.
Far beyond the boundaries of mortal time, the Celestial Spire hung suspended between galaxies — a cathedral of light and silence. It was here that Jean Grey, the Phoenix, and Wanda Maximoff, the Chaos, awoke once more.
They stood on opposite ends of a bridge made of stars, their power humming through creation like twin heartbeats.
Jean’s hair burned gold-red, eyes molten like dawn. When she exhaled, entire constellations flickered. Wanda’s aura shimmered crimson and black, tendrils of magic weaving and unweaving reality.
They were sisters — born of balance and destruction, flame and void — yin and yang incarnate.
For a long moment, they said nothing. Then Jean spoke, her voice echoing through every plane of existence.
“He lives again.”
Wanda’s reply came soft and dangerous.
“Samuel.”
The name itself sent ripples through the Spire.
“The Balance was never meant to wake,” Jean murmured. “And yet, here he stands — building armies, gathering witches.”
“Or perhaps,” Wanda countered, “he is merely doing what we could not — holding the line between our chaos and your flame.”
Jean’s golden gaze softened. “Would you spare him?”
Wanda’s smile curved like a blade. “I would test him.”
And as they turned away, the bridge of stars split beneath their feet — two halves of a divine coin drifting apart once more.
⸻
The Earth and Its Echoes
The sun blazed over Abuja, the heat wrapping the city like an embrace.
Cars honked in the distance; market chatter rose in rhythmic waves.
Among it all, Samuel Herindor and Daniel walked through Wuse Market like any other pair of friends.
Daniel was laughing, holding two sticks of suya and trying to balance a sachet of water on his head.
Samuel, tall and light-skinned with hair that shimmered faintly under sunlight, was pretending not to be impressed.
“Guy, na lie,” Daniel said between bites. “You mean say you fit just snap finger like this and light go off?”
Samuel smirked. “You want make NEPA vex? Abeg, leave that one first.”
Daniel burst into laughter. “You dey use cosmic power dey do comedian.”
Their friendship filled the market with ease and laughter. Yet beneath Samuel’s grin, there was tension. His aura, though hidden, pulsed faintly — a signature of balance and void.
As they passed a fruit vendor, Samuel’s gaze shifted to the horizon.
The air shimmered. For a split second, Abuja’s skyline warped — turning into something cosmic and wrong.
Daniel noticed his friend’s sudden stillness.
“Wet’n dey happen?” he asked.
Samuel blinked, forcing a smile. “Nothing, bro. Just… feeling the heat.”
But in the space between moments, he heard her voice.
Wanda’s.
A whisper in his head, like silk and thunder both.
You can’t hide from what you are, brother.
Samuel looked up — and the sky blinked back at him.
⸻
The Warlock and the Mountain
In the realm of Gaiath, where cliffs rose like titans’ ribs, Tristan Talon stood before an ancient monolith.
His palms rested against stone carved with veins of emerald light.
The earth whispered to him. He could feel the tremors of every heartbeat below — roots, rivers, the slow dreams of mountains.
He spoke softly, voice grounding. “Old one… lend me strength.”
The runes pulsed in answer, glowing brighter — but along with the ancient resonance came another voice, smooth and foreign.
Strength is such a fragile word.
Tristan stiffened. “Who’s there?”
Someone who admires you, the voice said, echoing within the cracks of the stone. You bear the weight of worlds, yet none share it. Would you give it up… for him?
A flash of Samuel’s face flickered in his mind.
He frowned. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Oh, I do.
The ground shifted. For a moment, Tristan’s reflection appeared on the surface of the stone — but his eyes were black and empty, a shadow smiling back at him.
He stumbled back, gasping. The voice faded, leaving only silence.
When the light returned, it carried a scar — a faint sigil burned into the rock behind him.
Femi’s mark.
⸻
Trials of Fire and Storm
In a charred valley beyond the mortal world, Ignara, the Fire Witch, stood surrounded by smoke and demons of ash. Her flame danced wild, matching the fury in her amber eyes.
She lifted her hand, and a column of fire erupted skyward. The heat was unbearable, the ground melting into glass beneath her feet.
“Come on, then,” she growled at the creatures circling her. “Let’s burn.”
They lunged — and she spun, her body moving with the grace of a dancer and the rage of a wildfire. Each motion birthed new flames; each heartbeat was thunder. When it was done, the valley was silent — save for the whisper of embers.
In the ashes, she saw the faint etching of a symbol.
The same mark Tristan had seen.
She frowned. “Someone’s been playing games.”
⸻
Over the sea, lightning shattered the horizon. Zephira, the Storm Witch, hovered amid the tempest, her silver hair whipping around her face.
Rain lashed her skin, thunder followed her laughter.
“Who dares disturb my clouds?” she shouted into the wind.
A voice answered — soft, mocking.
A storm that laughs. How quaint.
Her grin widened. “Then laugh with me.”
She thrust her arms out, summoning lightning that cracked through the sky like the wrath of old gods. The sea rose to meet her, waves bending beneath her command.
But when the clouds cleared, she felt something watching. A shape in the lightning — smiling.
The mark again.
⸻
Velyd’s Veil and the Whispering City
In the city of mirrors, Velyd, the Illusion Witch, watched the world through a thousand reflections. She had no fixed face — her beauty changed with each glance, each angle, each light.
A child cried somewhere in the mirrored alleys.
Velyd turned — and saw ten versions of the same child, each screaming differently.
“Femi,” she whispered. “You play dangerous games.”
Her illusions solidified into blades, cutting through false images until only silence remained.
In the shattered glass, a single phrase appeared, written in fire.
The Balance cannot hold.
⸻
——-
The Realm of Reflections was alive with light. Mirrors floated in the air like frozen water, showing infinite versions of reality.
At the center stood Femi naked — radiant, deceptive, and utterly still.
Two followers a boy and a girl knelt before him naked as well, their devotion glowing like candlelight.
He spoke softly, power curling around every word. “Tell me what you see when you look at me.”
The man answered, “Perfection.”
The woman whispered, “Divinity.”
“Good.” His smile was soft, predatory. “Then you understand.”
Their devotion bled into the air — tendrils of shimmering light sinking into him. It looked like love, but it was consumption. He instructed the boy to suck on his huge c**k while the girl gave him wet sloppy kisses .The foreplay continued into a process of passion as the boy continues to suck on femi’s throbbing c**k whilst he fingers the girl in her v****a and rubbing her clits.He roughly yanked the boy away from sucking his d**k and forcefully inserted his huge c**k into the boy’s tight butthole.Femi moaned in pleasure as he continues to thrust harder and deeper into the boy’s ass while spanking him,the girl watched them and started pleasuring herself in pure ecstasy while kissing femi passionately.
Then the door opened.
A servant, wide-eyed, froze.
Femi turned, voice calm. “You shouldn’t have seen this.”
Femi directed pulse of unseen smoky power outward to the servant direction and the servant’s body turned to glass, reflecting terror before shattering into nothing.
The two acolytes he was having s*x with flinched.
Femi opened his eyes fully — void-black, swirling.
“Do you still love me?”,do you still want my d**k?do you still want to get f****d by me?
They nodded.
“Then give me your names.”
They did. And as the last syllable left their lips, they faded — their souls unraveling into light that vanished into him,he killed them and drained their essence.
The room was silent again.
Femi stood alone, more powerful than before, more inhuman than ever.
He looked at his reflection in the mirrored walls.
“Soon,” he murmured, “even gods will forget themselves.”
The mirrors whispered his name back endlessly — Femi. Femi. Femi.
⸻
That night, under a fractured sky, Samuel and his gathered circle stood in the Interstice Realm — a plane of twilight between worlds.
Ignara’s flame burned low beside Zephira’s stormlight. Nysara, calm as the moon, stood near the edge of a floating river. Velyd watched from the shadows.
Tristan was quiet, his jaw tight. Samuel’s eyes lingered on him a moment too long.
He broke the silence first. “We’re missing someone.”
Zephira scoffed. “If you mean sanity, I agree.”
Ignara rolled her eyes. “Please don’t start.”
Samuel raised his hands. “Alright, abeg. One problem at a time.”
Tristan blinked, brow furrowed. “Did you just say… a bag?”
Samuel smirked. “It means chill, rock boy.”
Zephira laughed; Ignara didn’t.
But for a moment, even Tristan smiled.
Then the air changed.
A tremor of cosmic energy rippled through the realm. The void above them flickered, showing flashes of crimson and gold — the sisters watching.
Velyd whispered, “They’re awake.”
Samuel’s expression hardened. “Then it begins.”
A rumble followed — thunder that wasn’t from any storm.
From the edge of creation, Femi smiled in the dark, unseen.
“Let the balance break,” he whispered.
And somewhere far away, Jean and Wanda both turned toward the same point in the universe — Samuel’s light burning in the center of the void.
The next war had already begun.
⸻
- Writer
