A disturbance in the Rift—something has dared to enter the void. The disturbance is detected by the Black Temple. The alien crystals suspended throughout the structure tingle an alarm of warming. They awaken Nun from a slumber that, while lengthy in mortal years, has been a mere blip in the time span of Nun’s everlasting existence.

He rises, still in a daze. As he studies the crystals that tremble around him, he struggles to remember the current year.

How could something survive entry into the Rift?

Regaining his composure, his massive body moves with a persistent stride as he makes his way outside to track the disturbance stemming from somewhere along the eastern flats.

He reaches the breach, a literal tear within the boundary that separates the Rift from the outside world.

Impossible!

He studies the ground beneath him and notices black flames scattered, their remnants leading toward the mountainous peaks in the northwest quadrant of the Rift.

He follows the path for miles, his mind pondering just who or what was powerful enough to breach his sacred domain.

He takes his time, keeping his senses alert until he sees movement up ahead, and squints in time to make out the intruder ever so slowly creeping away.

Enraged, Nun demands, “Who forces themselves into the Rift, forsaking life and disturbing my slumber?”

A cry of agony bellows from the trail. The being turns to Nun with a strong green light emanating from its chest. Nun recognizes the aura. “Gaia?” he questions.

It is Gaia, the queen of the Titan bloodlines—master of nature itself.

Nun is horrified as he takes in her charred figure. The consequences of breaching the Rift. He shakes his head in sorrow, knowing that she is to die.

Drawing closer, he stops in his tracks once he glimpses the black flames eating away at her jade body. Once beautiful and luminescent, it now disintegrates slowly, as if being consumed by acid. Smoke fizzles atop skin that bubbles and boils. It’s a grotesque sight with an equally rank odor that quickens the acids within the stomach.

“Gaia! Have you lost your mind?” Nun exclaims.

He’s always shared a certain closeness with Gaia. Indeed, she was one of the few Ancients who believed in the traditions of the old world and the sanctity of life. Her purity was to be admired, for even Nun lacked the compassion she showed others.

“Why do you return?” Nun asks in disbelief.

“Father,” Gaia struggles to say, “I come to you knowing that death will take me, to plead for your help.”

Nun takes cautious steps toward Gaia as the black flames kindle on her limbs.

Nun reminds her, “The taint of the outside world cannot survive the flames of the Rift. They will purify you.”

A tear falls from Gaia’s eye as she drops to her crumbling knees that can no longer support her weight.

She gathers her composure before speaking. “I understand…that I will die. However, my purpose is of much more importance than my life. Allow me to explain before my body fades.”

Nun gestures with a nod as he stands tall above her.

She continues, “My husband, Uranus, was looked upon by the humans as a god when we departed the Rift. We moved northwest to a mountainous land where humanity had taken root.”

She coughs violently, causing the glow of her jade core to flicker. “Uranus looked down upon the humans and thought of them as nothing more than entertainment for him and his kin. He kept the secrets taught to us by you, but in his arrogance, he sought to recreate remnants of our home world here.”

Clearly disturbed, Nun beckons her to continue. Gaia takes a moment, struggling to breathe before resuming. “Me and my family terraformed the land the humans call Greece into a preserve of ancient creatures. Over the years, I had given birth to children and expected that they would fix what their father had done. What I did not expect was the way Uranus would react to having children. A creeping paranoia began to take over his mind. His obsession with power was sickening, and worse yet was his belief that he was losing power. He, who had created all sorts of monstrosities, razed cities, and enslaved millions. How could he be losing his power?”

“That is because of the directive,” Nun interjects.

“Directive?”

“Exterminating humans is unacceptable to the mission I gave you,” Nun explains. “It is hard-coded into every living being created in the Waters of Nun. Uranus is clearly responsible for hundreds, if not thousands, of deaths. This is why his power has been stripped from him.”

Gaia’s arm crumbles off, but in her concern, she pushes him further. “Why were we not told?”

“I assumed you would complete the mission without deviation,” Nun responds, a cold aura emanating from his eyes.

Though her anatomy is resistant to the sensation of pain, the eventual breakdown of her limbs is inevitable. Gaia presses forward. “I must continue—even now as my body erodes.”

She again Inhales deeply, further depleting her energy reserves. “With his power stripped from him, he fell into madness,” she says, her voice growing fainter. “He said he needed to consume the power of our children!”

Nun nods. “A catalyst…Even with no knowledge of our home planet’s culture, your husband instinctively knew that.”

Gaia doesn’t care for the explanation. She continues, “Regardless of what a catalyst is, I couldn’t let this go on anymore. I took my eldest son, Cronus, into my confidence. He saw the madness in his father’s eyes and agreed to help bring him down. With the help of my kin, led by Cronus, we succeeded in slaughtering Uranus. Once complete, all that remained of him was his unbreakable core.”

“The catalyst,” Nun reiterates.

Gaia, severely weakened and fading, struggles to produce her final words. “Cronus took power and reigned over our homeland for many years. But as with his father, in time he grew tired of humans. He considered himself a liberator and used Uranus’s core to create species unknown to Earth. After their proliferation, Greece was overrun, and soon Cronus suffered the same fate as his father. Unlike his father, however, he did consume his children’s cores upon their birth. His wife, Rhea, pleaded with me to fix this…”

Gaia falls backward as her weight becomes unsteady. She falls with enough force to shatter her singed skin. The neon-green jade of her core glows through the countless cracks as what’s left of her body slowly sinks into the ground.

Melting. Draining.

Nun kneels down to her withered form. He reaches out instinctively but stops himself before touching her, remembering the flames. “It is a sad fate, but why come to me?” He asks. “You know I cannot leave. Why not go to the others I sent forth?”

Gaia angrily replies, “Because they all have fallen! Every last one of them has become corrupted by their inherent power.”

Nun’s usual blue aura fades to a piercing white. He stares blankly at Gaia before turning away. She watches as his body glows a burning red aura, and he clenches his fists. He yells, “This is a disgrace! How could this happen?”

Gaia gives a soft smile. She explains her meaning. “Father…this is not your fault. There is something fundamentally wrong with immortality and power. There may be no hope for the ones before, but you can create a new being. One that rivals my own.”

Nun shakes his head in disagreement. The revelation of the horror his kin has wrought upon the world in his absence weakens his resolve. In his mind, there is no way forward.

But Gaia pleads, and in reluctance, Nun lets her explain her vision. “I believe the next generation should be no different in mortality than the humans you wish for them…to r-r-r-rule ov-ov-over.” Gaia stutters due to the erosion of her once-alluring face. She continues, “I have seen th-the humans. Their fear of death quells the e-ego. And when they do s-something heroic, they weigh their life against it and deem it a worthy cause.”

Gaia’s wise words rekindle the slight spark of hope that remains within Nun. It is as if she has revealed the secret to the human psyche. This sense of renewal is plainly visible in his bright, glowing eyes.

Nun confirms, “Perhaps that is where I missed the mark—granting immortality. I must try again. But I shall not create as many this time around. I must control their numbers and train them slowly, cautiously, with great oversight so that they may remain grounded.”

Gaia smiles as her smoldering body gives way. Her neck begins to crumble as her time nears its end.

“I believe you will succeed this time,” Gaia says, leaving her last words of encouragement.

Nun grabs her crumbling hand from the ground before him, forsaking his caution of the flames. “Listen, child. I did not fail the first time,” he explains. “I just made it too hard for your kind to succeed. Of all those who have failed, you seem to have done just fine. Are you not a success?”

It is a concept that Gaia had never considered until now. She responds with a choking whisper. “You speak the t-truth, father. Maybe there is hope for my family yet.”

“Your time has passed, my child. Rest now,” Nun says with cold blue eyes that betray his heartache.

Gaia’s hand splinters into dust particles that cover Nun’s hand. Her jade core melts and spills at Nun’s feet, an ooze of neon green. All that remains of her crystalline form is a sliver of Jade—the sole portion of Gaia’s body left untainted by the outside world.

Nun picks up the jade sliver and stands over the ashes of his most beloved daughter.

I wish I could have saved you, but this land was never meant for those who have been in the outside world. I shall pass your catalyst on to one deserving of it when the time is right.