So with the lack of my computer , I've been sitting in bed , working on things for my fan continuation.. And I ended up writing this little thing...
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Since I add in the allegory that Evil and Amaranth are like the anti Adam/Eve.
( ... And upon writing this I just realized, they both have the same first initials too, huh! )
Evil = Both Adam and the serpent.
Ama = Eve
The Fortress Of Ultimate Darkness = The Tree of Knowledge
The Time Of Legends = The Garden Of Eden
Still on the fence if the Map would be their Apple? Or if I should just put in pomegranate for symbolism?
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Then I worte this.
⸺ Classified Memorandum 731-B (Amended): “On the Reformation of Evil and His Unfortunate Project” ⸺
(Filed reluctantly by order of the Supreme Being; Heaven Central Bureaucracy, Anomalous Records Division)
1. Ahem. Let the record show that after I — in My infinite wisdom — oversaw the dismantling of that tiresome creature known as
Evil, I fully expected him to stay scattered. Ashes should remain ashes. That was, after all, the
point.
2. But no. Some beings are simply too stubborn to accept proper annihilation. Like a bad idea muttered by angels who should know better, the remnants of his wretched self slithered back together, whispering nonsense in the void, until—unfortunately—he remembered he existed.
3. And so Evil
reformed himself. Uninvited. Unapproved. Certainly
not according to any schedule I had authorized.
4. Upon surveying the ruins of his gloomy fortress, he apparently decided he needed a “contingency.” (As though I wouldn’t notice. As though
he were capable of original strategy. Ridiculous.)
5. Rather than creating anything properly, as I did with Adam and Eve — through decent, regulated, bone-and-breath methods — Evil tore into his own miserable essence and sculpted from it a creature.
6. He called her
Amaranth. I call her what she is: a walking error report.
7. She is not born of rib, but of rot; not gifted breath, but exhaled vanity. A mirror, nothing more, polished to reflect his every flaw back at him. And oh, how he admired her — unsurprising, since admiring himself is his one true talent.
8. She was meant to be his tool, his backup plan, his insurance policy against Me. (Charming, really. As if I haven’t seen a thousand schemes like this before lunch.)
9. But, of course, it didn’t end there. It
never does with him. Instead of maintaining professional detachment, he began to… linger. Stare. Speak to her as if she were more than the sum of his own bile.
10. He grew
fond of her — in that nauseating, paradoxical way only he could. He loved the reflection, not the person. How terribly on-brand.
11. And yet, I will begrudgingly note this: his fondness
changed. What began as narcissistic fascination turned, by degrees, into something uncomfortably close to genuine attachment.
12. First he named her
tool. Then
'daughter' Then — and this is the part no one believes until they read the reports —
" My Precious Flower" Yes. Evil, the embodiment of ego and malice, fashioned himself a kind of heir.
13. He trained her, sheltered her from his lesser minions, taught her his secrets as though preparing a successor. And, astonishingly, she thrived. She ceased to be merely a mirror and became something
other: sharp, willful, and unsettlingly beautiful in the way calamity can be.
14. And as his schemes deepened, so too did his view of her.
Daughter became
partner.
Tool became
Empress. He crowned her not with ceremony but with his gaze — as if the universe had quietly shifted while no one was watching.
15. And yes… I am aware he
loves her. Not the way mortals understand love, of course. His is a twisted, possessive devotion, born from himself and reflected back through her. But it is love nonetheless, and — I detest admitting this — it makes him more dangerous than he was before.
16. And so these two set out into the
Time of Legends, which, I should note, is
not a garden — it’s a holding zone for discarded epochs. A dumping ground. Hardly paradise, though he strutted through it like some dark patriarch of a counterfeit Eden.
17. Looming over that wasteland is his dreary
Fortress of Ultimate Darkness, which he seems to fancy as some kind of forbidden tree. There’s no fruit, just secrets he doesn’t understand and power he shouldn’t touch.
18. And now, because they simply
must play at myth-making, they’re chasing after the Map as though it were some grand, forbidden apple that will overturn My design.
19. Let the record show: this is not your normal love story. It’s a delusion wrapped in vanity, heading for catastrophe. UNHOLY! And if they imagine I won’t be watching… well, they’re even more foolish than I suspected.
20. —
Filed (begrudgingly) by the Supreme Being, who really has better things to do.
@Pete @Manny
