Lucky woke up. He remembered burning, screaming... dying... his god. He lifted himself away from his dead husk. Yes... even with the removal of the body, his presence remained, his dreaming-self eternal. And in time, he will be reborn, forever immortal. Only one of the many benefits of his superior race.
Lucky watched the monkeys and Scottie scream at each other, Scottie throwing the Eon Chronicle into the ocean, the monkeys tearing itself apart in confusion and anger. He would have cared if he was human, but he was above that now. Well, he did care for one thing - the mysteries of the Eon Chronicle.
After the allocation of their leads and the disbandment, Lucky turned his attention away and drifted off, seeing and hearing enough; he was better than this.
He turned his attention inwards/outwards and searched for the presence of his one true god, asking questions only they would know of the Eon Chronicle.
But he didn't feel anything.
How presumptuous of him to think that his god would grace him with his presence after his embarrassing display as a mortal! He'll need to work towards repairing his reputations.
He turned his attention towards his brethren, somewhere light-years away.
...
...
...
Nothing.
...
Nothing?
Lucky felt a sudden grip of fear latch onto to him, primal and exact. *where are they?*
Then that fear... was shifting? Undulating. Forming.
There wasn't noise (or he thought there wasn't), only the presence behind him, or what constituted *behind*. Even his dreaming form couldn't fully comprehend where it was. Applause and disappointment. Laughing and screaming. It was pure and judging. It was beyond unfamiliar. He leaned into it and
tried
to
understand
And then Lucky suddenly understood: that he shouldn't have tried. He shouldn't have tried to think about them because he gave them form. He thinked about what they were, but *they were* because *he thinked*.
...No. They were always there. He only understood because they made it easy for him. They wanted to be seen.
And they were Hope and Despair.
Hope embodied a pure-white, human teenager. She was radiating light. Her long hair were bunched in six long streams, flowing backwards like moving tentacles. She had no legs, only a unicycle held and balanced her form. She wore a tutu and beret, with a sleeveless vest completing her discordant fashion. She was eyeless and wore a cruel smile, her hands and arms behind her back.
Despair was a naked, emaciated humanoid; his image that of a pitch-black a demon. On closer look his thin wiry-frame was all condensed muscle. His dark eyes had red, concentric pupils leading inwards and inwards, staring deep into Lucky. His many horns adorning his head curled outwards, spilling out before finally curling upward. His large, clawed hands hanged limply(?) from his thin arms, while his thin legs and large, clawed feet carried his uneven weight. He bore no mouth.
They both stood there silently, waiting for a response. Lucky preambled.
"Who are you?"
Hope dropped the smile. "You know who we are. What we are."
Despair added, even mouthless, "Ask 'why me'." His voice was monotonous as if he was bored (or irritated) with Lucky's existence.
Lucky, not following Despair's advice, instead tried to ask, *what do you want with me?*, but -
Despair cut him off and began counting with his claws, "you wasted your life, then you defied important aspects of your life," raising the third finger, his eyes bore into Lucky "and you have nothing to do in your unlife." Lucky tried to- "There should be nothing after your death. Your existence is a mistake."
"'You're fucking worthless' is the gist of it". Hope playfully swung her body foward and back, her smile front and center, "actually, less than worthless. You're sick. And not even the Eon Chronicle could fix that~."
Lucky was about to ask -
"You've done nothing, and so you've gained nothing in return." Despair was sickened by the creature before him. "'What is the Eon Chronicle?', 'where is my God?', 'what are gods?'".
"Blah, blah, blah." Hope made a yapping motion with her hands, stopping only after an exasperated sigh. "You would have at least made a great antagonist for the heroes to thwart. And yet..."
Lucky forcibly remembered the onslaught before his death. His former friends - no - those monkeys. Everything dying, everyone teaming up on him... and Scottie. Looking back it all happened so quickly.
"And yet you're a glorified nobody. Who are you, without the Eon Chronicle?" Hope was disappointed with his life. Did she want Lucky to live again?
Lucky then understood again. That he didn't deserve anything. Not even answers and definitely not his waking dream. No. They wanted him to feel like he deserved nothing! He wanted to ask -
"They are all gone, Lucky."
Long seconds.
"It will only, and always, be you."
Lucky... after more of those long seconds... weeped in sorrow and fear. There was nobody. No one was there for him. Nobody. Nobody!? A waterfall of emotions piled on him.
Despair leaned in, his voice a raging whisper "No, no. You don't get to cry."
Lucky was only crying because they made him. Thule's weren't capable of these useless emotions. Lucky fought these "tears".
Hope stood back. Despair took a step forward.
"You can't cry, Lucky." His clawed hands grabbed him, "You don't deserve to cry."
Reaction. Abstraction. Backwards.
Hope's voice, barely audible, promised:
"Not yet, at least."