Chapter Text
Reality is shattering, like broken shards of glass crumbling into a pile of dust. All life forms have withered into nothing but memories, a mockery of what was once a beautiful world. Not a single vegetation stands.
There’s nothing that can be done, nothing besides unceasing to preserve whatever’s left. It can maintain this universe’s existence, just for a little longer.
But what’s the purpose, when there’s nothing it can hold proud of anymore. Everything is gone and this world has lost its attraction.
This universe was never meant to see light among the others, in the first place. But once upon a time, deities made the supernova happen, worlds were created, life forms bloomed.
Among them was one that was never gifted a name, as it was predicted that it wouldn’t last long. But they still took care of it like the others, oblivious to the truth the superiors were hiding.
Mother Nature planted seeds, and everyone could coexist. As gods and guardians took care of their assigned designation, superiors maintained control for balance, and the people worshipped them, living with peace and harmony.
Then, a few hundred years into this new cycle, a war against corruption and evil came, millions of lives were taken; many died, while others mutated and merged to strengthen the corruption.
It was never ending, no matter how much they did. The higher-ups sat and watched, as deities begged for help to preserve this land. They simply shook their heads, as little to no occupants were left, they had long ago ceded this world.
Refusing to retreat and give up, a group of gods and goddesses heaped together and gave life to a powerful being torid of the evil.
One that no one could foresee.
No humans survived, only weakened animals and a small quantity of plants. The land was captured in vines of corruption, eliminating any and every resistance it met.
When all hope was lost, a loud roar echoed throughout the sky, shaking the earth and clearing the clouds.
A white dragon emerged. It had a shining golden eye that looked crystallized, while the other was as white as snow, pure and peaceful.
With the birth of a new being, they conquered the war, finally ending on the fiftieth year. Everything went back to its original state, well as much as it could, with whatever remains were spared.
However, now that there was nothing to fret over, the dragon needed to find a new purpose and a way to use all of its stored-up energy.
At the gods’ suggestion, it shared its powers with this broken world, resulting in the dragon maintaining the balance of its new kingdom. The occupants evolved into stronger and majestical beings, and they rebuilt off of that.
Just like how it had defied destiny, by merely existing and protecting an abandoned land, it had also avoided its death numerous times.
The higher ups were displeased, furious even. Such a being with power had messed with their entire setup and made everything around it unbalanced. They ordered the beast to be executed, but the gods responsible for its creation objected.
Many were slain or exiled, as a consequence for their defiance against their superior, and at the will of one of its masters, the dragon continued to live, to stand up for its world until there was truly nothing left.
Its death was written to be millenniums ago, but the beast always found a way to come back. Like a cockroach, there was no getting rid of it.
Though, here it is, in the present, falling with nothing but fruitless efforts of finding a reason to continue, to fight back against the corruption.
A dragon that was looked upon by its people, now had no one by its side. Lost memories of loved one were buried deep somewhere, a place where it’ll never be able to find.
Centuries ago, it was once surrounded by friends and families it could rely on.
Nothing could ever heal or replace the emptiness that its family had left it with. But with the determination and generosity it inherited from a few of the goddesses, it lived on for its people.
With a force capable of countering fate itself, responsibilities are inevitable.
Enemies are bound to be made. The war is never truly over. When one ends, a new one will arise.
The sound of raindrops falling stimulates its senses, a calming path to death. However, it doesn’t mask the corruption spreading throughout its body. Patches of what was once glimmering white scales, now turned into black shards.
The war is done, they have won. All enemies have been dealt with, but there is nothing left to celebrate with. The countless battles, the endless suffering, the numerous assassination attempts, all of it gone in vain.
Betrayed by the superiors, who were thought to have finally allowed the dragon to live. Betrayed by countless others who were blinded with jealousy.
For the first time in its life, it doesn’t know what to do anymore.
If the dragon disappears, so does everything that came along with it. It’ll be as if they had never existed in the first place, just like expected. A pathetic and degrading fate, one that it had avoided for millenniums upon millenniums.
The air around it feels light, it barely feels like it’s falling. It’s a new feeling, unpleasant but novel. Like it wants to have something, a motive to resist against fate, once again, just like good old times.
But nothing comes to mind, and there’s a bitter taste.
Eventually, the thought of finally submitting toys with its mind. There’s no distraction, just a deafening silence. The rain continues to pour, but it can’t hear anything anymore.
It’s disturbing.
As a third of its body is painted in black, there’s a sudden force that hits it, like a sneak attack from behind. A grounding presence that won’t leave the dragon alone, and the deity searches frantically for the source.
Glowing orbs land on the form of a curled-up infant. A human, it’s the first time it’s ever seen one. They’re tainted red like a Spider Lily, the sight is mesmerizing, captivating and pitiful.
The weakest of voices echoes around the void, persistent and juvenile.
‘Live. Live. Live. I want to live.’
Oh.
Just like itself, this infant is going to meet its demise, and something about that fact leaves an unsettling curl. The child doesn’t even seem aware yet, the body unmoving but glowing.
Glowing with the same spirit its masters had when it was born, when they wanted to defend its world. Nostalgia and ache surges deep within it.
As if the dragon’s attached to chains, it can’t bring itself to stop staring. Such a tiny life form with a lake of crimson beneath it.
That feeling of searching comes back with a vengeance, as the image of the child strays further and further away.
Golden blood pumps throughout its slithering body, as its heart pounds loud.
‘I want to live.’
It hesitates, this is the day where it will finally cease to exist. Where the higher ups will be able to rest at ease, knowing their lifelong demand has been accomplished.
That their plan had succeeded.
That the rest of the multiverse will be balanced, as it should’ve been, since the start.
‘I want to live. Let me live.’
Could his body even take such a force, a thin and frail vessel would most likely break if the dragon were to, per say, transfer its soul to the boy.
Besides, humans shouldn’t have such capabilities, right?
Such power is poison for humans, especially when they’re already born. The body has already developed, and even if it’s still growing, a sudden intrusion of an unknown force, with a different system and anatomy could cause serious damage.
A fetus would have a higher probability of a successful growth, as it hasn’t even developed into its own independent being. Its anatomy would be able to modify itself to adjust to the changes.
The chances of such a transfer are extremely low.
‘Please, let me live.’
But it’s not entirely impossible…
There’s also the small possibility of the dragon’s soul to not awaken at all. It’ll simply rests there in its new vessel, and no transformations would be needed.
And if that were to happen, a lot would need to be done for the soul to be awaken and merge with the owner.
And merging is a whole other story. The life-or-death kind.
It’s a complicated process with all of the possibilities and percentages, but it’s doable. A major risk, but what do they have to lose, at this point?
‘Live.’
Like a crack in the dam, the deity obtains a newfound strength, stopping the process of falling.
The voice the dragon is hearing, it’s coming from deep within the boy’s soul. A determined and definite desire.
That same desire the dragon had been looking for but couldn’t find.
It had always been weak to the sheer determination of others, a beautiful sight to be a part of. But both of their deaths are absolute, there isn’t a single doubt.
The dragon has grown weak and soon the corruption will take it along to the afterlife.
But the dying boy is there, so close yet so far. His mere presence screams to have something to hold onto, begging for someone.
‘Live.’
To think that a divinity lying on its deathbed would link with a human infant who shines like an angel. It’s a bait, a temptation—
And it gives in, oh so, willingly.
With its mind made up, it begins to cross towards the limp body, calling out to it. The sudden company of another life form is foreign, especially with a different species from another universe, but it’s definitely not displeasing.
If anything, endearing. Fulfilling.
Perhaps, this will be its final defiance.
Ah, what do they call it again?
Pettiness? Stubbornness?
Persistence?
“As two fading souls drift further and further,
A red glowing string suddenly binds them together.
An unexpected encounter leads to a promise,
Which brings them tied to this premise.
Loud yelling and gasps resound from every angle, as flashing lights blind non-responsive eyes. Three severely damaged vehicles are circled by a crowd of bystanders, as officers attempt to manage the chaos.
On the left side of a highway, the front of a black Honda Civic is crushed into an accordion, as the middle-aged driver sits deceased in his bloody, leather seat.
His head is planted straight against the steering wheel, as the horn obnoxiously blares for a while, until an inspector jerks his limp head onto the headrest to analyze the damage.
Many witnesses reported that the Honda kept making abrupt turns and cutting others off, police suspect it to be a case of drunk driving.
The car had swerved to the right, cutting off a van and forcing the larger vehicle to turn in panic, resulting in a collide with a Station Wagon, effectively crushing it between the van and the concrete wall.
Amazingly, the van driver is still alive, although heavily concussed, as a large gash, on the right side of his forehead, showers his head in blood. His nose is bent, broken, and his teeth are stained red.
He deliriously mutters out his horror of hearing a disturbing ‘crunch’ from the car in front, as paramedics slowly escort him down to be transported to the emergency.
Finally, the most damaged transport of all three, they had to pull the van away to be able to assist the victims. However, most of the car is pulverized, as the driver’s face is mutilated from the impact. The passenger’s body is heaved against the dashboard, where her face merges with the cracked glass.
In the back, there is a little boy who’s against the broken window. His brown curls stick to his bloody face, as his eyes fight to stay open.
His body leans slack against the seat, as the seatbelt keeps him in place while suffocating him, all the same. There are minimal movements to his pupils, when he hears a door handle getting fumbled with.
“There’s a kid in the back!” A woman shouts, as she breaks the door open and launches herself towards the child.
She grabs the small, cut up arm, heart in her throat, as she places her fingers under the thumb. She breathes out a sigh of relief, when there’s a faint pulse and gently tugs the boy towards her, before reaching for her radio.
Tired eyes look around the cloudy space, as he leans his heavy head against the woman’s chest. His eyes land on the horrific sight of his parents, and he violently flinches, despite his body protesting.
A steady hand guides him away from the view, one on the back of his head and the other on his cervical spine. Blue gloves mix into a deep purple, as she carefully inches him closer to the outside.
Her hold is protective, and it reminds him of his mother, the thought leaving a sweetness with a bitter aftertaste.
“… Requesting immediate attention, I repeat the child is still alive, but heavily wounded, requesting immediate attention.” He notes that the voice is an octave lower than his mother’s.
Time gets lost, and the commotion tunes out in his mind, as a dull ringing echoes in his bleeding ears. In a blink of an eye, he’s no longer on the highway, nor the car, nor in the woman’s embrace.
In fact, he’s nowhere, only black surrounds him.
The surface below him is hard and cold, like concrete. Despite everything blending together without leaving any dimensions, he’s on the ground.
Something like static pulsates unpleasantly loud in his eardrums. Unhurriedly, the static morphs into broken sounds, before it takes him a moment to realize that he’s hearing a quiet whisper.
‘Who… are you…?’ He calls out from his mind, his lips unmoving caused by his broken and dislocated jaw.
‘Believe it or not, I’m a deity. More specifically a dragon. Who might you be, little one?’ A weak, yet deep voice replies back, nonchalantly. It leaves an unsettling timber in his spine.
As much as his strength will allow him, he tries to catch a glimpse around him, only to be met by more darkness. Not a single trace of what the being deems to be a dragon.
He’s been taught not to talk to strangers, to be wary of them. But he’s lost and freezing yet burning, everything hurts, and it feels like his bones are trying to tear away from his skin.
He wants to go back to his mother’s hugs and his father’s piggybacks.
‘… I’m… Peter.’ He’s too out of it to truly comprehend the situation he’s in. The fact that a supposed dragon is talking to him, wherever he is.
‘Well Peter, I must admit… You truly are a special boy to be able to communicate with me.’ The dragon hums, sounding deeply amused.
Confusion fogs his mind, and the faint voice of his mother lingers behind. He wants to hold onto something, but there’s nothing.
‘My mom said I’m a special boy too…’ He reminisces sadly.
He gags out specs of blood, as he feels his heart slowing down. His jaw cracks at every choked-out cough that comes out. His chest bone burns like it's been set on fire and his legs feel like someone’s trying to bend them the wrong way.
‘She’d be right, then.’
For a moment, there’s a loud silence that drags out, as more blood spills from his mouth, leaving a trail of crimson drool down his chin. He wants to cry, but only red liquid spills from him.
He leans his heavy head on his forearm, as lightly as he can. It’s tough to focus on anything but the agony, it’s the only thing his mind seems to grasp on.
‘How come I can’t see you?’ He absentmindedly wonders, earning a quiet hum.
‘I’m somewhere far away, where no humans can ever reach me. Though, I suppose you’re the first one, Peter.’
A loud, foreign cough bounces off his head like thunder, making him flinch.
‘Are… you sick…?’ He wonders, ignoring the way his unruly hair clumps together from the blood drying.
‘I… suppose you could put it that way. Have you ever heard or experienced corruption spreading throughout your body?’
‘No… We have infections and viruses…’ He recalls skimming through a book about it, before he gave up on it, since he couldn’t understand a lot of the terms used.
‘I suppose that would be your version, then.’
‘Does it… hurt..?’ He glances up, even when he knows there’s nothing there.
‘Indeed, like my very being is getting torn to shreds, until I’m nothing but floating atoms.’ It muses, sounding content with its reality. No, more like it’s used to it.
He shudders at the description, unsure how he should respond.
‘It doesn’t sound like you’re in pain…’
‘Should I be? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been here, though I suppose I’ll finally be seeing this through until the end. How are you feeling, Peter?’
‘I… ’
He’s pulled back into his predicament, when there’s a sharp pain that strikes in his ribs, one that has him curling around himself.
For a second, he sort of forgot about it. But now, it feels like the torture has been dialled up to a hundred. He whimpers hoarsely.
‘It really… hurts a lot…’ He screws his eyes shut, as he prays that it goes away.
The sight of his parents still lingers in the back of his mind, the way his mom’s neck was twisted in an unnatural way.
He shudders, as much as his frail body allows him to. There’s a feeling of bile building in the back of his throat, and it lingers there to leave an uncomfortable sensation.
Then, there’s a phantom touch around him, a warm and consoling feeling that lightly diminishes the torment in his body. The closest thing he can describe it to, is like hugging a big fluffy dog, except there isn’t any fur, nor any fluffiness.
It’s a stark contrast and he feels like he can bear the burden for a little longer.
‘Does it? I’m sorry to hear that.’ Strangely enough, the deity actually does sound sincere and sympathetic. ‘How old are you, Peter?’
‘… Five. I turned five… two weeks.. ago… How old are you…?’ He receives a large number; one he’s never heard of. He wouldn’t even be able to count it with both of his hands.
At his astonishment, the dragon chuckles, a weak and breathless one.
‘You’re nothing but a little sapling.’ The dragon remarks fondly.
Another brief minute passes, as the faint sound of sirens blare for cars to make way. Maybe it’s from the pain, perhaps the exhaustion, but he doesn’t feel as afraid as he probably should be undergoing.
Something about the dragon’s presence is… nice.
“Am I going to die..?’
For a moment, he thinks that the dragon is no longer there as there isn’t any response. He believes that he’s now alone, and his stomach starts to churn, but then a curious and hesitant voice follows back.
The amusement disappears, and it’s shaky.
‘Is that what you wish for?’
His eyes close and all he can see is blacker, as he barely manages to shake his head. He immediately stops, when the action makes him dizzy.
‘Don’ wanna die… Wanna… Wanna live.’ And he means it, from the bottom of his heart, he really does.
The dragon goes silent another time and Peter wonders what its thinking about. Before long, there’s a small hum, followed by a sigh.
‘Would you be willing to make sacrifices for that wish?’ The voice is getting cloudier, it sounds strained.
He suddenly feels himself slowly sinking into a dark void, like an ocean. Had he always been sinking?
It feels like something is pulling him away, like vines guiding him towards promising warmth and security. It makes him go slack, and his body doesn’t want to fight it, but the question leads his mind elsewhere.
Another tug, this time, from the opposite direction of the vines. It’s that same phantom touch from earlier, keeping him from completely sinking, but barely holding onto him. Waiting.
‘S… Sacrifices?’
‘Everything comes at a price, after all. With great power comes great responsibilities. I’m afraid our time is running out, though.’ There’s no further elaboration, and it should be suspicious to him, it should make him hesitate.
He should refuse.
Yet.
‘Can I really live…?’
‘I’m giving you both my biggest burden, yet my greatest strength, the rest of it is up to you, little one. Consider this a gift from a lonely stranger, and a way for me to live on.’
Peter doesn’t necessarily understand everything, but the offer sounds tempting and before he can acknowledge it, he holds onto the touch tugging him forward.
Like magic, the vines gradually fade, letting him float to whatever surface they’re heading towards.
Perhaps he’s imagining it, but there’s an odd sensation, as if a string was being tied around his wrist, binding him to something. His left eye twitches, prickling, and his body itches, as if ants are running around.
There’s a tight burn in his chest, like he’s being compressed until there’s nothing to inhale. His mouth opens in a silent scream, before suddenly, it’s gone.
He doesn’t feel anything.
‘It’s been a pleasure knowing you, Peter. May fate guide you to a promising light, just as it has guided me to you.’
As one gifts its everything to continue the fall,
The other strives on and carries them all.
What once started off with two hearts beating,
A gentle deity disappears leaving only one being.”
The heart monitor that was once recording a slow-paced heartbeat suddenly springs up, as the rhythm increases. The two visitors jolt awake.
When his mind is able to grasp onto his consciousness, he manages to squint his right eye open, the other is hidden under a thick wrapping of gauze.
He feels dissociated, detached from the world, like he woke up from a long dreamless nap. His mind feels fuzzy, his body light, but not quite right and his focus nonexistent.
He whimpers under the white ceiling, too bright for his sensitive hues to capture. Everything feels like it’s too much, the heart monitor pounds at his head, and it takes him a second to distinct two familiar voices.
“… awake..! He’s awake, Ben, Ben!” A frantic woman calls out, as she enters his field of vision. She looks distressed, terrified and relieved, dark circles accompany her eyes.
“… down… May, he still isn’t completely lucid, remember?” A gentle man pats her back, he wears a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
It takes a lot longer than it should for him to remember that they’re his aunt and uncle. He glances around the room, searching and May seems to catch on. She brings her hands to her mouth, in a muted gasp, as her heart breaks.
“Peter… I’m so sorry, baby.” She leans her head against his, stray hairs tickle his cheek, it’s a soft grounding.
Ben can only sigh, though his muscles slightly relax, as he pulls himself off of his chair. May’s glasses press against her nose, as she touches their foreheads together, but she couldn’t care less.
“I’ll go get a nurse.” Ben whispers, before leaving the room. He doesn’t wait for any acknowledgment and the door closes with a quiet click.
May doesn’t seem to notice her husband’s absence, as Peter hears her muffled sniffles.
Her hand caresses his head like a cat, while her other hand cradles his bruised cheek. He can only manage a deflated mumble, before she quickly hushes him.
“Shh… The doctors said that you shouldn’t strain your throat. Your jaw is also healing, baby.” She briefly explains.
May pulls away to look at her nephew, she crumbles at the sight and resettles against his head. Her lower lip trembles, as she fights to keep it together.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s going to be okay; I promise. Ben and I are here, we’ll be here with you. It’s okay.” Though he barely comprehends her word vomit of comfort, he feels warmth blooming in his chest.
Despite just waking up, he still feels exhausted and lost. But, with May’s arms around him, the discomfort is reduced a little.
By the time Ben enters the room with a doctor and nurse behind him, Peter is asleep with May by his side, still massaging his scalp.
It’s a miracle Peter Parker was still alive at the scene, let alone surviving such a gruesome crash. Doctors weren’t even certain if the miracle would even last.
No one should’ve possibly made it out of it —not even the car or the wall did— no one but a five-year-old who, apparently, is able to win against the odds.
Her eyes water, a shaky smile on chapped lips, as she thanks whichever deity above them listened to her prayers and pulled her nephew from his coma, ending his one-month streak and allowing him to live.