Tyr's sleep was restless, a chaotic whirl of images and voices that clashed and blurred together. He saw Finn, Emily, and the children of the orphanage, their faces twisting into shadows and fracturing like shattered glass. The earth beneath him gave way, and he tumbled into an abyss of darkness, cold and endless.
Then, without warning, everything stopped.
Tyr gasped as his eyes flew open, but what greeted him wasn't the dim ceiling of Finn's hideout. Instead, an expanse of pure white stretched infinitely in every direction. There was no sound, no wind, no ground beneath his feet—only a vast, silent void.
He blinked, disoriented. "Where—"
"Finally awake, are we?" a warm, amused voice interrupted.
Tyr spun around and froze. Before him stood a throne, massive and black, its edges seemingly carved from shadow itself. Perched upon it was a humanoid figure, their body an unblemished white, smooth and featureless as polished marble. They wore no crown, carried no symbols of authority, but their presence was overwhelming—a quiet, absolute power that swallowed the void itself.
The being's face bore a wide, cheerful smile that seemed almost out of place. Its eyes, shimmering with an infinite light, studied Tyr with a mix of curiosity and affection.
Tyr's breath caught in his throat. He dropped to one knee instinctively, bowing low. "The One Above All," he said, his voice trembling with awe.
The figure chuckled lightly and waved a hand. "Oh, come now. There's no need for all that," it said, leaning forward with a playful grin. "You're making me feel far too formal, and I don't have time for that today. Up, up!"
Hesitant, Tyr rose to his feet, his violet eyes still fixed on the being. "Why am I here?" he asked cautiously.
"Straight to the point," the figure replied, clasping its hands together. "I like that about you. Why are you here? Well, let's call it... a check-in. A progress report, if you will."
Tyr frowned, his mind racing. He had a thousand questions, but one rose above the rest. "Why did you erase Theon?"
At the mention of the name, the figure's smile dimmed, though it didn't disappear entirely. It leaned back in its throne, tapping its fingers on the armrest. "Ah, Theon. Yes, I thought you might ask about him."
The being's voice shifted, its warmth tempered by something deeper. "Theon wasn't erased out of cruelty or punishment, Tyr. He was removed because he posed a risk to the balance of everything."
Tyr's brows furrowed. "What kind of risk?"
The being's luminous gaze seemed to bore into him. "Theon was brilliant, capable, and uniquely attuned to the nature of existence. But his arrogance blinded him. He believed he could fix the universe, improve it according to his own ideas of what was 'right.'"
Tyr's stomach twisted. "And that's a bad thing?"
The being laughed, the sound both gentle and heavy. "In theory? No. Improvement is always welcome. But in practice? Ah, that's where the trouble lies."
It gestured broadly, as if encompassing all of existence. "The universe, Tyr, is a delicate symphony of chaos and order. Every note, every dissonance, has its place. Theon didn't understand that. He wanted to rewrite the music entirely—to impose his own vision of perfection."
The being's smile faded entirely, replaced by a solemn expression. "If left unchecked, he would've destroyed the multiverse. Not out of malice, but out of ignorance. His good intentions would've unraveled everything, piece by piece. And once the balance is broken..."
"It can't be fixed," Tyr finished, his voice barely above a whisper.
The being nodded. "Exactly."
Tyr's chest tightened. Theon had always been arrogant, sure, but to think his actions could've led to such devastation... It was hard to comprehend.
"He didn't know," Tyr said quietly.
"No, he didn't," the figure agreed. "And that's why it fell to me to intervene. I don't relish erasing anyone, Tyr. But sometimes, to preserve the whole, sacrifices must be made."
Tyr swallowed hard, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. He couldn't argue with the logic, but the weight of it still felt crushing.
After a moment, he asked, "Why tell me this? Why not let me think he was just arrogant or reckless?"
The being's smile returned, softer this time. "Because you're different, Tyr. You have the same potential Theon did, but you've also suffered in ways he never did. That suffering has given you something precious—perspective."
Tyr's fists clenched at his sides. "And what if I lose that perspective? What if I become like him?"
The being tilted its head thoughtfully. "That's always a possibility. But I believe in you, Tyr. You've already proven that you're willing to fight for others, even at great cost to yourself. That's why I gave you this power."
Tyr straightened, his nerves tingling. "What is this power? What am I supposed to do with it?"
The being chuckled, wagging a finger. "Ah, no spoilers! You'll figure it out as you go. Where's the fun in me telling you everything?"
Tyr bit back his frustration. "But you said—"
"I said I believe in you," the being interrupted, its tone turning serious. "But belief doesn't mean handholding. You'll make mistakes, Tyr. You'll stumble, and you'll fall. That's part of the journey."
Tyr exhaled sharply, forcing himself to nod. "Fine. But there's one more thing I need to know."
"Always one more thing," the being said with a laugh, gesturing for him to continue.
Tyr hesitated, then asked, "Is this... the Cancerverse? Or something like it?"
For the first time, the being's cheerful demeanor wavered. Its eyes grew distant, the light within them dimming.
After a long pause, it spoke, its voice quiet but firm. "No, Tyr. This isn't the Cancerverse. But it's not entirely free of its shadow, either."
Tyr's blood ran cold. "What does that mean?"
The being's smile returned, though it was tinged with sadness. "It means your path will be harder than most. But you're not alone. Remember that."
Before Tyr could respond, the whiteness around him began to dissolve, the being's radiant form fading into mist.
"Tyr," its voice echoed one last time, soft and distant. "Trust yourself. You're stronger than you think."
---
Tyr woke with a start, his chest heaving as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of Finn's storage room. He sat up, running a hand through his damp hair, the weight of the conversation pressing down on him.
He stared at his trembling hands. "Fix the balance," he whispered to himself. "Don't break it."
The words lingered in his mind, their meaning clear but their implications terrifying.
He wasn't Theon. But what if he could become him?
That thought, more than anything, kept him awake for the rest of the night.