To Thomas the Monniverse pulsed with false vibrancy, a kaleidoscope of color and wonder that mocked the boy's perpetual misery. He trudged across the ocean floor, his small boots crunching on the coral, each step a testament to his unending, infuriating childhood. Beside him, the Diver, a silent, armored sentinel, moved with an almost preternatural grace. They didn't need contractions or vessels to travel. Thomas, cursed by the Oracle with an eternal seven-year-old's existence, could breathe and walk in the crushing depths as easily as any surface dweller up above could on land. It was a cruel jest, a constant reminder of what he'd lost.
"You know this isn't fair!" Thomas said to the Diver, his voice distorted by the water pressure. "It's not fair, it's not fair, it's NOT FAIR!"
The Diver remained unmoved. He'd become accustomed to Thomas's outbursts, the echoes of a child's rage amplified by the strange magic of the Monniverse. "I should be grown!" Thomas screamed, his small fists clenching. "I should be a man already! I should… I should make them all pay!"
His gaze was fixed on the shimmering surface far above, on the world of the living, scanning for the Oracle that had bestowed this twisted immortality upon him. He hated the Monniverse. He hated its inhabitants. He hated the Oracle most of all.
Suddenly, shadows materialized in the gloom. Sharks, but not the playful, harmless creatures of children's stories. These were predators, some with two heads, their eyes burning with a cold, malevolent light. Their teeth, like jagged shards of broken glass, glinted in the dim light. They circled Thomas and the Diver, their precise movements fluid and menacing.
Thomas grinned. "Toys. Just toys to break," he muttered, his voice laced with venom. Fear was a forgotten relic, replaced by a consuming, white-hot anger.The Diver raised fists, preparing to pummel, but Thomas waved him off. "No, no, no." he said behind a faint giggle. "Watch. This is how it's done."
He closed his eyes, drawing on the dark energy that churned within him, the power granted by the very entity he despised. He visualized the water flowing inside the sharks, their blood, their very essence. Suddenly the first shark made a noise that can only be described as a shark screaming. The boy continued to concentrate as the sharks were beginning to boil, to twist, to burst. It was a horrifying spectacle, a silent ballet of death playing out in the crushing depths. One by one, the sharks convulsed, their eerie glow fading as their bodies imploded. The surrounding water became a swirling vortex of blood and ichor.
Thomas opened his eyes, his face a mask of cold fury. "Weak," he scoffed.
Finally, they reached their destination: a grotesque edifice of bone and coral, a monument to some long-forgotten horror. And there, amidst the macabre architecture, resided Brakjo. A colossal Kraken, from a thousand feet above it's dark eyes fixed upon them with ancient malice. Countless tentacles writhing all around, the smallest had to be at least 200 feet long. As Brakjo approached the waters became almost pitch black.
Thomas, his rage barely contained, glared at the monstrous creature. "YOU!," he growled. "I seek the Oracle mermaid witch. Tell me where she hides."
Brakjo extended a tentacle, its tip swirling into a vortex of light. A voice, ancient and powerful, echoed in Thomas's mind. “Child you are before Brakjo the Creator, the Destroyer, the Ancient One.”
Thomas looking up at the creature smiling. “Beast you are before the last image you will have of your lengthy existence. Unless you tell me what I want to know.”
Emotionless and without care Brakjo's voice became almost deafening "Solve my riddle, child, and the answer shall be yours."
“Now who's the child? Let's have a go at this riddle.” Thomas sarcastically replied.
“I am the chill that crawls beneath your skin, The silent scream that echoes from within. I am the shadow lurking in the night, The unseen presence, bathed in pale moonlight. I am the whisper that tempts you to stray, The gnawing fear that holds you in its sway. I am the emptiness that chills your soul, The gaping maw that swallows you whole. I am the secret that no tongue can tell, The haunting memory, a living hell. I am the darkness that consumes the light, The endless void, the everlasting night. I am the echo of a forgotten scream, The chilling premonition of a dreadful dream. I am the silence that precedes the fall, The creeping dread that conquers all. I am the hunger that can't be denied, The chilling touch of something deep inside. I am the feeling that you're never alone, Though you're surrounded by cold, unyielding stone. I am the question that has no answer, The haunting gaze of a vacant eye. I am the terror that grips your heart, The final curtain, the bitter end, the tearing apart. I am the whisper of the grave's cold breath, The chilling reminder of inevitable death. I am the darkness that awaits us all, The silent reaper, standing tall. So tell me, if you dare, what am I, this dread, This omnipresent horror, among the living and the dead?”
The riddle was intricate, a labyrinth of words designed to confuse and mislead. But Thomas wasn't interested in games. He craved answers. He craved vengeance. He was sharper than Brakjo credited him.
“Everywhere,” he snarled. "The Oracle is everywhere, isn't it? Watching. Judging. Mocking."
Brakjo's demonic eyes narrowed. "Correct. The Oracle is the Monniverse. It sees all, knows all."
A chilling wave of fury washed over Thomas. The Oracle wasn't in a place. In the Monniverse it was a presence, a constant, taunting presence. It had gifted him with eternal life, but at what cost? He was trapped, a child forever, a prisoner in a world he loathed. And the Oracle was there, always watching, as he suffered.
He turned from Brakjo, his small frame trembling with barely suppressed rage. He didn't need Brakjo. He knew where the Oracle was. It was everywhere. And one day, he swore to himself, one day he would make it pay. He would make the Monniverse feel his pain. He would make everyone understand what was done to him and how it felt to be him. Alone, deprived of the connection a child needs. The love that only a parent can give.
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