*Authors Note*
I was watching Bricky's playthrough of Control and it pained me to realize like 6 hours into the video that for some reason I started naming the MC Jessie instead of Jesse.
Thus you get a extra chapter as a trade and Ill fix the others over the weekend.
(Jesse POV)
Consciousness returned to me like waves lapping at a shore, gentle at first, then with increasing intensity. I felt something soft beneath my head and a weight across my body that hadn't been there when exhaustion claimed me. My eyelids fluttered open, vision adjusting to the dim light of the Oldest House's entrance hall.
A pillow cradled my head, and a gray blanket with the FBC logo subtly woven into its fabric covered me from shoulders to feet. I smiled, running my fingers over the material.
"Thanks Ahti" I murmured to the empty hall, knowing the mysterious janitor was probably already elsewhere in the building, mopping floors that might not have existed until moments ago.
I pushed myself upright, muscles protesting after my cosmic adventure. The wound on my shoulder had already begun to heal, the skin knitting together with unnatural speed.
"You've been busy while I slept," I said to the House, feeling its consciousness brush against mine in affirmation.
Through our shared awareness, I sensed changes throughout the structure—new hallways forming, rooms rearranging, the architecture adapting itself to accommodate a prisoner. The Leviathan I'd captured was securely contained within the depths of the building, held in a chamber that shifted constantly, replacing new walls to prevent it from escaping when it broke them.
I stood, stretching limbs that still felt heavy with fatigue. The blanket fell away, revealing the Expedition Outfit still covered in frozen particles of Leviathan ichor, now melted into iridescent stains. I brushed at them absently as I approached the entrance doors, drawn by a subtle change in the light filtering through.
The view beyond the Oldest House's windows stole the breath from my lungs.
The cosmic battle had escalated dramatically during my rest. God's radiant form had condensed into something almost human-shaped, though the light was too intense to make out details. The Darkness had been pushed back, its inky formlessness now concentrated into a defensive sphere, tendrils of void still lashing out but with diminishing force.
Between the two primal forces, the archangels moved with terrible purpose. The first led the assault with brutal efficiency, his flaming sword cutting through reality with each swing. Two others flanked the Darkness from opposite sides, constraining its movements with coordinated attacks. And the most beautiful one wove complex patterns of light that seemed to be binding the void itself, creating a lattice of celestial energy that compressed within moments and then burst like balloons.
The remaining Leviathans fought with desperate fury, but their numbers had dwindled significantly. Dozens of the massive beings writhed and twisted throughout the battlefield, but it was clear they were losing. For each archangel that was injured, three Leviathans were unmade, their essence scattered across the emptiness.
This wasn't just a battle anymore, it was the endgame.
"The resonance" I whispered, suddenly remembering the goal I set. "We need to amplify it."
The subtle vibration that had been maintained during my sleep was still present, humming through the foundations of the Oldest House and out into the nascent universe. But it was too soft, too gentle for what was needed now. If God was making his final move against the Darkness, we needed to commit fully.
I spun away from the window, sprinting through corridors that rearranged themselves to create the most direct path to the Director's office. The House understood the urgency, shifting its impossible architecture to accommodate my haste. Walls moved aside, stairways appeared where none had been before, distance was compressed between spaces that should have been far apart.
I burst through the doorway into the Director's office, finding it exactly as I'd left it the desk still positioned before the panoramic window that now offered a perfect view of the cosmic confrontation. I slid into the chair, the leather cool against my back as I leaned forward, placing both palms flat on the desk's surface.
"Alright," I said to both myself and the House, "let's give this everything we've got."
Through our shared consciousness, I felt the Oldest House respond eagerly, its awareness expanding to encompass every corner of its impossible geometry. The resonance began to build, starting as a gentle hum in the foundations and growing steadily stronger, rising up through concrete and steel and spaces that defied conventional physics.
"More" I urged, channeling my will through our connection. "Everything we have."
The building's consciousness entwined with mine, amplifying my intent. The resonance grew louder, stronger, more insistent a cosmic song that vibrated through reality itself. The desk beneath my palms began to tremble, papers sliding across its surface.
"Just a little more," I whispered, sweat beading on my forehead as I poured everything I had into the effort.
The resonance peaked a thunderous vibration that should have shattered eardrums but somehow remained harmonic, beautiful in its terrible power. Through the window, I could see its effect rippling outward from the Oldest House concentric rings of force that distorted space as they expanded.
________________________________
(3rd Person POV)
The cosmic vibration peaked as God channeled his power, the fabric of reality bending to his will as Purgatory took form at the boundaries of creation. The new realm materialized not as a simple void but as something more structured—endless forests began to take shape, misty valleys, and rocky highlands forming a landscape that seemed both primeval and eternal.
God paused momentarily, his radiant form dimming slightly as he concentrated on a peculiar sensation rippling through the nascent reality. The stabilizing vibration that had been present throughout much of the creation process suddenly intensified, becoming almost tangible as it reinforced the boundaries of Purgatory.
His attention shifted, scanning the cosmic horizon for the source. The vibration seemed to emanate from a specific point in the newly formed reality, yet when he focused his perception in that direction, he found... nothing. Just empty space where it seemed strongest, as if the source existed in a blind spot to his otherwise omniscient awareness.
"Curious" God murmured to himself, the sound both everywhere and nowhere. The vibration was undeniably helpful, stabilizing his creation in ways he hadn't anticipated, but its unexplained presence troubled him. Everything in this reality was of his making, or his sister's. This was... something else.
He pushed the thought aside as Purgatory solidified before him a perfect prison designed for beings too dangerous to destroy but too threatening to allow freedom. The realm hovered at the boundary of existence, forests stretching endlessly in all directions, a place of eternal hunt where the Leviathans would remain contained.
The archangels maintained their positions, cosmic sentinels flanking the Darkness as God completed his work. Michael hovered closest to the Darkness, his flaming sword held at ready, celestial armor gleaming with righteous purpose. Raphael and Gabriel maintained a triangular formation, their wings extended to channel containment energies that compressed the Darkness further with each passing moment. And Lucifer, the Morning Star, stood as the focal point of their combined effort, a conduit for power that would have obliterated lesser beings.
"It is finished" God declared, his voice reverberating through dimensions. "Behold, Purgatory the eternal hunting ground."
All four archangels turned simultaneously toward their Father's creation, their attention diverted for less than a second as they beheld the new realm. A moment of wonder, of awe at their Father's power.
A moment was all the Darkness needed.
With explosive force, the compressed void expanded outward, tendrils of absolute nothingness lashing out with desperate fury. Two struck with precision one catching Raphael across his midsection, the other wrapping around Gabriel's left wing.
Raphael's cry of pain echoed across reality as the tendril cut through his celestial form, leaving a wound that leaked luminous golden essence into the void. The perfect symmetry of his six wings faltered, their synchronized movement disrupted as he clutched at the injury.
Gabriel fared a little better, the darkness coiling around his wing like a serpent, constricting with terrible force. Feathers of light began to dim and extinguish under the Darkness's touch, the wing crumpling inward at an unnatural angle. His face contorted in agony, but he maintained his position, refusing to break formation despite the damage.
"Hold!" Michael commanded, his voice thunderous with rage as he positioned himself between his injured brothers and the Darkness. His six wings expanded to impossible dimensions, light pouring from them in concentrated beams that carved through the tendrils reaching for his siblings.
Lucifer reacted with cold efficiency, his perfect features hardening as he channeled increased power through himself toward the Darkness. The void contracted under the renewed assault, but the damage had been done two archangels wounded, their combined power diminished.
God's light flared with what might have been anger, though his true emotions remained inscrutable even to his children. With a gesture that rippled through creation, he activated Purgatory's gravitational pull, a force that began to draw the Leviathans inexorably toward their prison.
The massive creatures fought against the pull with all their considerable strength. The smaller ones were dragged in first, their serpentine forms twisting in silent protest as they crossed the boundary into Purgatory. The larger Leviathans, ones that had existed since the first moments of creation resisted longer, their forms shifting and adapting as they sought anchor points in the fabric of reality.
Michael led the charge, his flaming sword driving the creatures toward the portal with precise, devastating strikes. Gabriel and Raphael, despite their injuries, joined the effort, using their combined power to create celestial currents that swept the Leviathans toward their doom. Lucifer wove complex patterns of light that disrupted the creatures' ability to adapt, rendering them more vulnerable to the pull of Purgatory.
One by one, the Leviathans were forced across the threshold. As they entered the new realm, their forms solidified, becoming more substantial and constrained than they had been in the void. The endless forests of Purgatory swallowed them, misty valleys and rocky highlands offering countless hiding places where they would spend eternity as both hunters and hunted.
A particularly massive leviathan one of the wounded ones, its flank still leaking obsidian ichor from an earlier battle was among the last to cross. It fought with desperate fury, its jaws snapping at reality itself as it sought escape. Michael's sword caught it precisely where its previous wound had not fully healed, slicing deeper into ancient flesh. The creature convulsed in silent agony before the combined force of the archangels and Purgatory's pull finally dragged it across the boundary.
As it crashed into the forests of Purgatory, its black blood spattered across virgin soil the first substance ever to touch the ground of this new realm. The ichor sizzled where it landed, seeming to merge with the earth itself. Within moments, something extraordinary happened the points of contact began to change, the soil darkening and bulging upward as if something were growing beneath it.
Tendrils of black vegetation pushed through the surface, unfurling into strange, oil-slick flowers with petals that resembled fangs more than foliage. The petals arranged in perfect geometric patterns that somehow suggested fanged maws, colors that shifted between black and depths of purple so dark they hurt to look at. Their scent filled the air—sweet, metallic, intoxicating.
(IMAGE)
God's attention shifted to this unexpected development. He moved closer to the boundary of Purgatory, observing as more Leviathan blood fell upon the realm's soil and more of the strange flora sprouted in response. A slow smile spread across his face though not a benevolent expression of a creator pleased with his work, but something colder, more calculating. The archangels, focused on containing the remaining Leviathans and the Darkness, did not witness the change in their father's countenance.
"Adaptation" he murmured to himself, watching the black flowers multiply. "Even now, they create rather than simply destroy. Fascinating."
With careful movements that went unnoticed by his children, God gathered several of the dark blossoms, their forms shifting and writhing in his grasp as if still alive. He tucked them away within his light, hiding them from view as the battle continued around him.
Beyond the boundary of Purgatory, the Darkness had contracted to its smallest form yet, a sphere of absolute void surrounded by the combined power of the archangels. The remaining Leviathans formed a defensive shell around their creator, sacrificing themselves to the pull of Purgatory one by one rather than allow their maker to be taken.
"Your children cannot save you, sister" God declared, returning his attention to the Darkness. "Their loyalty is admirable but futile."
The Darkness pulsed with what might have been defiance or perhaps despair. Even then emotions beyond conventional understanding pass through their compressed form. The last Leviathans were drawn screaming into Purgatory, leaving the Darkness exposed, surrounded on all sides by celestial light.
"Michael, Raphael, Gabriel" God commanded, his voice carrying both affection and absolute authority. "Contain the Darkness until I have prepared its prison."
The three archangels moved into position, forming a triangle around the compressed void, their combined power forming a cage of pure creation energy that contracted with each passing moment. Lucifer remained slightly apart, his perfect features showing the faintest trace of concern as he watched his Father work.
God withdrew to the edge of creation, to a space beyond the archangels' perception. There, he examined the black flowers he had collected from Purgatory, the first flora to emerge from the blood of creation's most adaptive predators. The flowers continued to shift and change in his grasp, attempting to adapt to his light, to become something that could survive his touch.
"Perfect" he whispered, arranging the blossoms in a circle, their oily petals gleaming with unnatural iridescence. At the center of this circle, he began to craft a prison specifically designed for his sister, not merely a realm like Purgatory but a true cage that would hold the Darkness itself.
The structure took form slowly, layer upon layer of divine will and intent woven together with the essence of the Leviathan blossoms. Where the flowers touched his creation, they left traces of their adaptive nature, infusing the prison with an ability to evolve in response to escape attempts. The cage would learn from any effort to break free, growing stronger with each failure.
As God worked, something unexpected happened. The blood of the Leviathans that had soaked into Purgatory's soil continued to spread, forming networks of black veins beneath the surface. In one remote region of the endless forest, these veins converged, pooling into a depression that gradually filled with the obsidian ichor. The surface of this dark pond rippled, then stilled, becoming reflective as a mirror.
Then, with no obvious input, three bright silver drops of blood fell into the pond. As soon as if a catalyst the ichor began to rise, drawing together, coalescing into a form. Not a Leviathan this time, but something more structured, more defined. A cocoon of living darkness took shape, hovering above the pond, pulsing with potential as it absorbed more of the spilled blood from the surrounding soil.
God remained unaware of this development, his attention focused entirely on completing the prison for the Darkness. The cage neared completion a perfect lattice of creation energy reinforced with the adaptive properties of the Leviathan blossoms. At its center lay a Mark, a lock that would require power equal to multiple archangels to break, a seal to contain the Darkness for eternity.
"It is ready" God declared, returning to where the archangels maintained their containment of the Darkness. His three injured children had done their duty well, keeping his sister compressed despite their wounds. Lucifer stood apart, watching with an expression that mingled awe.
"Behold" God declared, revealing what lay at the center of the cage he had crafted, "the key to creation's safety."
The four archangels gathered closer, their celestial forms radiating curiosity as they observed their Father's creation. At the core of the divine geometry pulsed a symbol unlike anything they had seen before—a sigil of terrible power, ancient beyond comprehension yet newly formed by God's will. It resembled a stylized letter, but one from no earthly alphabet, its lines and curves suggesting both order and chaos simultaneously.
"The Mark" God explained, his voice resonating across dimensions. "The lock that will contain the Darkness for eternity."
Michael studied the sigil with analytical precision, his warrior's mind calculating its potential. "It pulses with your power, Father" he observed. "A perfect seal."
"Not merely a seal" God corrected, his light shifting in what might have been thoughtfulness. "The Mark requires a bearer—an anchor to maintain the Darkness's imprisonment. It must be worn, carried by one of tremendous strength and loyalty."
Gabriel and Raphael exchanged glances, their injured forms already healing but still weakened from the Darkness's attack. Michael stepped forward immediately, his wings extending in readiness.
"I will bear this burden, Father" the warrior archangel declared, his voice ringing with conviction. "There is no greater honor than to safeguard creation."
God's light pulsed in what might have been appreciation, but he turned away from Michael, his attention focusing instead on his other son.
"Lucifer" God said, his voice softer now. "The Morning Star, My most radiant child. This task falls to you."
Lucifer's perfect features registered surprise, then solemn pride. He stepped forward, moving past Michael whose expression remained carefully neutral despite the unexpected choice.
"The Mark requires not just strength, but wisdom" God explained. "Not just loyalty, but understanding. Of all my children, you possess the brightest mind, the deepest capacity for knowledge. You will comprehend the Darkness best, and therefore guard against it most effectively."
Lucifer bowed his head in acceptance, his six opalescent wings folding slightly in deference. "I am honored by your trust, Father. I will bear this Mark and keep the Darkness contained for all eternity."
"There will be a price" God warned, his light dimming slightly.
"I am equal to any challenge" Lucifer replied, confidence radiating from his perfect form. "My loyalty to you and to creation is absolute."
God nodded, satisfaction evident in the pulsing of his light. He extended what might have been a hand, the Mark hovering above his palm, glowing with terrible purpose.
"Then receive the Mark, my son. Become the lock that secures creation's safety."
Lucifer extended his arm without hesitation, his perfect features composed in solemn determination. The Mark floated from God's palm, hovering momentarily before his son's arm, then descended.
The moment the sigil touched Lucifer's celestial flesh, it seared itself into his being not merely marking his physical form but embedding itself in his very essence. Pain beyond comprehension flashed across the archangel's perfect features, there and gone in an instant as he mastered it, refusing to cry out.
The Mark blazed red against his radiant form, pulsing with power that connected directly to the cage containing the Darkness. A bond formed, instantaneous and absolute—the prison, the prisoner, and the jailer linked.
"It is done" God declared, his voice resonating with both triumph and something more complex, less definable.
The moment the bond solidified between Lucifer and the Darkness, reality itself seemed to hold its breath—a cosmic pause pregnant with potential. Then, with overwhelming force, creation exploded outward from a single point of infinite density.
The Big Bang erupted with blinding intensity, a surge of energy and matter expanding in all directions simultaneously. Raw potential unfurled across dimensions, time itself beginning its forward march as the first moments of the universe took shape. Light separated from darkness, energy transformed into matter, and the fundamental forces that would govern reality established their domains.
God moved through this chaos with perfect control, his presence guiding the expansion, his will shaping the cosmic forces unleashed by creation's birth. He extended his awareness across the burgeoning universe, feeding his power into strategic points, accelerating expansion here, condensing matter there, weaving the fabric of reality according to his design.
The four archangels watched in awe as their Father worked, witnessing the birth of stars, the formation of galaxies, the establishment of physical laws that would govern all that followed.
As the universe expanded, God's attention multiplied, focusing on multiple points simultaneously. At the edges of the primary creation, smaller bubbles began to form—adjacent universes branching off from the main timeline, alternative realities with subtle variations in their fundamental properties.
"Behold, my children" God's voice resonated across the forming cosmos. "Not just one creation, but many. A multiverse of possibility, each realm unique, each a canvas for life to flourish in different forms."
The archangels witnessed the birth of parallel dimensions, universes that overlapped yet remained distinct, cosmic bubbles contained within the greater expanse of God's creation. In some, time flowed differently. In others, the basic forces of physics held slightly different strengths. All connected by threads of divine intent, all part of the grand design.
Throughout this cosmic genesis, the resonance continued. That curious vibration emanating from a blind spot in God's perception, stabilizing reality in ways he hadn't anticipated. The expansion proceeded with perfect harmony, the resonance somehow preventing the chaotic energies of creation from causing more focus to be required.
________________
A slow smile spread across Jesse's face as she observed God channeling power into strategic points, guiding the expansion according to his grand design.
"Let the games begin" she whispered, her voice barely audible even to herself.
With deliberate precision, Jesse clapped her hands once, the sharp sound cutting through the ambient hum of the Director's office.
The resonance stopped instantly, like a symphony silenced mid-note.
The effect on the expanding creation was immediate and catastrophic. Without the stabilizing frequency, the delicate balance of forces governing the newborn universe faltered. The outward momentum of the Big Bang began to reverse, matter and energy that had been racing away from the point of origin suddenly pulled back, drawn by a suction no longer counterbalanced by the mysterious resonance.
God's light flared with alarm as his carefully guided expansion began to collapse. The nascent galaxies, the forming stars, the branching alternative realities, everything began to contract, folding inward toward a single point. The archangels moved instinctively closer to their father their expressions showing confusion and concern as creation itself seemed to falter.
Jesse watched with intense fascination as the cosmos beyond the Oldest House's windows contracted, space-time folding in on itself as the multiverse God had begun to craft compressed back toward its origin point. The process was mesmerizing the reversal of creation, a cosmic inhale after the explosive exhale of the Big Bang.
When the contracting universes had compressed to a fraction of their former expanse, condensed into a pulsing sphere of potentiality that seemed to hover at the edge of existence, Jesse clapped again.
The resonance resumed immediately, the Oldest House's foundations vibrating with renewed purpose as the stabilizing frequency flowed outward from its impossible architecture.
Once more, the cosmic egg exploded outward, matter and energy racing away from the central point with even greater velocity than before. The Big Bang repeated itself, creation expanding in all directions as God scrambled to reassert control over the process, his light pulsing with confusion and growing concern as he sought the cause of this unprecedented disturbance.
Jesse's smile widened, eyes gleaming with mischievous delight as she watched God and his archangels attempt to understand what was happening. The cosmic architect moved through his expanding creation, examining the fundamental forces, searching for the flaw in his design that had caused the momentary collapse.
"Again?" she whispered to the Oldest House, feeling its eager agreement through their connection.
Another clap, another instant cessation of the resonance.
Again, creation collapsed, the expanding multiverse contracting into itself as gravity reasserted dominance over the other fundamental forces. Galaxies that had barely begun to form were crushed back into their component parts, stars collapsed before they could ignite, and the branching realities God had started to craft merged back into a single point of infinite density.
Jesse let the contraction proceed further this time, waiting until the entire cosmos had compressed to a pinpoint of blinding intensity, a singularity hanging at the edge of nothingness.
Then, with careful timing, she clapped once more.
The resonance surged outward from the Oldest House with greater strength than before, the stabilizing frequency amplified by the building's enthusiasm for this cosmic game. The Big Bang erupted for a third time, creation expanding outward with such velocity that even God seemed momentarily overwhelmed by its force, his light flickering as he attempted to reassert control over the process.
This time, Jesse allowed the expansion to proceed longer, watching as God once again began to guide the cosmic forces, shaping galaxies and star systems, reestablishing the branching realities that would form his multiverse. The archangels spread throughout creation, following their Father's commands as they helped bring order to the chaotic energies unleashed by the Big Bang.
Just as God seemed to regain confidence, just as the first primitive order began to emerge from cosmic chaos, Jesse clapped again.
The resonance ceased, and creation began its third collapse.
Through the Oldest House's perception, Jesse could sense God's growing frustration and confusion. The cosmic architect moved through the contracting universe with increasing urgency, examining the fundamental laws he had established, searching for the flaw that caused creation to repeatedly collapse despite his efforts to maintain its expansion.
Jesse leaned back in the Director's chair, observing the repeated cosmic collapse and rebirth with a mixture of fascination and growing weariness. The strain of manipulating forces so fundamental to reality had begun to take its toll, sweat beading on her forehead and a dull ache building behind her eyes. Through their shared connection, she felt the Oldest House's eager enthusiasm, its consciousness vibrating with childlike delight at the cosmic game they'd initiated.
But she also sensed something else, a sharpening awareness in God's perception, his omniscient attention sweeping through creation with increasing focus as he sought the source of these unexplained disruptions. Each time they collapsed and reinstated the universe, his search patterns grew more methodical, more precise, narrowing the field of possibility.
"I think that's enough," Jesse murmured, wiping perspiration from her brow with the back of her hand. "We've made our point."
The Oldest House's consciousness pulsed with reluctant agreement, like a child being told playtime was over. Through their connection, Jesse felt its assessment of the situation the risk of discovery increasing with each iteration, along with God's patience wearing thin as his creation repeatedly collapsed despite his efforts to maintain it.
After allowing the universe to expand once more, Jesse made a decision that even the Oldest House hadn't anticipated. Rather than maintaining the stabilizing resonance at a consistent level, she stopped it entirely. Not gradually, not partially, but a complete cessation of the vibration that had helped shape reality since its inception.
"Let's see how he handles this," she said, a hint of mischief in her voice.
The effect was immediate and profound. Without the resonance that had subtly reinforced the cosmic expansion since the first moments of creation, the universe's outward momentum faltered. Stars that had been racing away from the central point slowed their retreat, galaxies that had been forming began to waver in their development, and the branching realities that God had been crafting started to destabilize.
Through the panoramic window of her office, Jesse watched as God's radiant form flared with alarm and then determination. The cosmic architect moved with incredible speed throughout his creation, channeling more of his own divine energy into strategic points to compensate for the missing resonance. Where before he had guided the expansion, now he pushed it, forcing reality to continue its outward growth through sheer will and power.
The effort was visibly taxing, even for a being of his immeasurable strength. His light pulsed with exertion, dimming slightly as he extended himself across the vastness of the forming cosmos. The archangels moved to assist, spreading throughout creation to stabilize regions that threatened to collapse without the mysterious vibration that had previously supported them.
"He's compensating," Jesse observed with professional admiration. "But it's costing him."
The universe continued to expand, but at a noticeably slower pace than before. God's intervention prevented total collapse, but the smooth, harmonious development that had characterized the early moments of creation had been replaced by something more strained, more effortful. In some regions, matter condensed too rapidly, forming dense pockets that threatened to collapse into singularities. In others, particles remained too diffuse, lacking the gravitational attraction needed to form cohesive structures.
Most fascinating to Jesse were the branch universes those alternative realities that God had begun to craft alongside the primary creation. Without the resonance to stabilize them, these pocket dimensions developed in unexpected ways, their fundamental properties distorting as they grew. Some became impossibly chaotic, their physical laws contradicting themselves to the point of instability. Others developed normally in some respects but remained fundamentally flawed universes where time flowed inconsistently, or where matter failed to condense into stable forms.
God's attention shifted to these problematic branches, his light focusing with what might have been frustration or perhaps regret. With decisive efficiency, he began to excise the most unstable offshoots not merely abandoning them to collapse but actively dismantling their structures, absorbing the energy and raw materials back into himself to be repurposed.
One by one, the failed universes were pruned from the cosmic tree, each dissolution releasing a pulse of power that God immediately rechanneled into the remaining branches. With each universe he culled, his own strength seemed to replenish slightly, the divine light growing stronger as he reclaimed what he had invested.
But one branch in particular received special attention—a universe that seemed to form with perfect stability despite the absence of the resonance. God's focus lingered on this reality, his light pulsing with what might have been satisfaction as he guided its development with particular care.
Through their shared perception, Jesse and the Oldest House observed this favored creation, sensing its unique properties. Unlike the other branches, this universe maintained a perfect balance of fundamental forces without external support. The laws of physics aligned with mathematical precision, creating conditions where matter could form complex structures, where stars could ignite and planetary systems could coalesce.
"It's like he's compensating for us completely in that one," Jesse murmured, studying the pristine universe through the Oldest House's enhanced perception. "Making sure it develops exactly as he originally intended, without our interference."
This pure creation became God's primary focus, receiving the majority of his attention as the other surviving branches developed with minimal guidance. The cosmic architect seemed determined to ensure that at least one universe would fulfill his original vision—a reality where light dominated darkness completely, where order triumphed over chaos without complication or compromise.
After what might have been hours or perhaps eons—time held little meaning in the space between realities—God's efforts finally stabilized the expanding cosmos. The primary universe and several surviving branches continued their outward growth, the fundamental forces balanced enough to sustain development without constant divine intervention. The archangels had taken positions throughout creation, maintaining watch over strategic regions, with Lucifer, bearing the Mark, stationed closest to the sealed prison containing the Darkness.
Only then did God's attention begin to shift outward, his awareness expanding beyond his immediate creation to scan the boundaries of reality for the source of the disturbance that had so profoundly affected his work. The search pattern moved methodically, quartering the cosmic horizon with increasing precision.
Jesse watched this development with growing concern. The Oldest House's imperceptibility had protected them thus far, but how long would that advantage last against a determined, omniscient entity who had now directly experienced their influence?
"He'll find us eventually," she said quietly, her fingers drumming thoughtfully on the armrest of the Director's chair. "Maybe it's better if we introduce ourselves on our terms."
The Oldest House's consciousness rippled with surprise and caution, questioning the wisdom of deliberately revealing their presence to a being who had just demonstrated the power to create and destroy entire universes.
"What's the alternative?" Jesse challenged, feeling the building's hesitation through their connection. "Hide forever? Hope he doesn't notice us? We've already messed with his creation we're on his radar, whether he can see us or not."
After a moment's consideration, the Oldest House's resistance softened, its consciousness conveying reluctant agreement. If confrontation was inevitable, better to control the circumstances than be discovered unawares.
"Alright then," Jesse said, pushing herself up from the chair with renewed determination. She approached the panoramic window, studying the cosmic panorama beyond, watching as God continued his methodical search of reality's edges. "Open the window and be prepared to move fast. This might not be smart."
The Oldest House hesitated briefly before complying. The glass-that-wasn't-quite-glass silently retracted, creating an opening between the Director's office and the void beyond. The absence of air pressure differential was another reminder of the Oldest House's unique metaphysical properties—it existed both within and outside conventional reality, its internal atmosphere maintained by laws that had nothing to do with regular physics.
Jesse stood at the threshold, her hands braced against the window frame as she took a deep breath. "This is probably a terrible idea," she muttered to herself, "but I've never been great at impulse control."
Reaching deep into her connection with the Oldest House, Jesse channeled the resonance in a new way not outward to stabilize reality, but inward, amplifying her own voice beyond what human vocal cords could normally produce. The power built within her chest, a vibration that threatened to tear her apart if not properly released.
With reckless abandon, she leaned out into the cosmic void and shouted: "HOW'S THAT FOR YOUR GOD-SIZED EGO, JACKASS?"
The words erupted from her with supernatural force, the resonance carrying her voice across dimensions that should have swallowed sound entirely. The cosmic insult echoed through the newly formed universe, rippling through space-time like rings in a pond, reaching every corner of creation almost instantaneously.
The moment the words left her lips, the Oldest House's imperceptibility shattered. The building's presence snapped into focus, suddenly visible to all cosmic awareness—a rectangular impossibility floating at reality's edge, neither fully within creation nor entirely outside it, with a human figure leaning from an open window shouting obscenities at the universe's architect.
The reaction was immediate and terrifying.
God went perfectly still, his radiant form freezing in the midst of creation. The light that had been flowing outward to guide cosmic expansion paused mid-stream, suspended in an impossible moment of divine shock. Throughout the newborn universe, stars halted their fusion, galaxies paused in their rotation, and time itself seemed to hiccup in response to the creator's surprise.
Then, faster than thought, faster than light, faster than anything Jesse's mind could track, God moved. His radiant form condensed into a blinding point, vanishing for a moment before reappearing facing directly at the oldest house less time than it took for Jesse to begin blinking.
The full attention of creation's architect focused entirely on the rectangular structure and the impudent human leaning from its window—a scrutiny so intense it should have unmade her at the atomic level. God's light pulsed once with what might have been fury or perhaps merely surprise, and then a spear of pure creation energy formed in what passed for his hand—a javelin of condensed reality, burning with power that could birth or unmake worlds.
"Oh, shi—" was all Jesse managed before the divine weapon launched.
The spear of light crossed the void instantaneously, arriving at Jesse's position faster than human neurology could process. She had no time to dodge, no time to raise a defense, no time even to complete her exclamation. The weapon struck with perfect accuracy, detonating directly in front of her face in an explosion of divine energy that should have erased her from existence.
A sound like dry pasta snapping in bundles echoed through the Director's office as the blast hurled Jesse backward. Her body crashed against the desk with bone-breaking force, momentum carrying her over its surface and beyond. Papers, pens, and office accessories flew in all directions as she disappeared behind the imposing piece of furniture.
God moved and hovered at the window, his light focused intently on the spot where the being had been ready to unleash more of his power if necessary, prepared to unmake this impossible structure that had somehow influenced his creation.
But before he could act again, before he could even process what had happened, the Oldest House vanished.
Not gradually, not with any visible transition, but between one cosmic moment and the next, the rectangular building simply ceased to be perceivable. God's omniscient awareness swept the area with increasing intensity, searching for any trace of the structure or its occupant, but found nothing. Just empty space where moments before an impossibility had existed.