Whilst the group ventured deeper into the valley, a meeting was taking place.
However, this was no ordinary reunion.
A large table—capable of seating fifteen—stood in the center of the room, crafted entirely from a deep red-brown wood.
Except… the room wasn't a room at all.
It was the void of the cosmos.
Or something like it.
Stars twinkled in the dark backdrop, distant and cold, as if the meeting was taking place in the heart of space itself.
The only source of light was a single candle at the center of the table.
A candle.
Burning.
In the vacuum of space.
No oxygen. No gravity. And yet… it flickered, as if daring logic to question it.
But that's not important.
Around half the seats were empty.
As for the others—
Well…
They were occupied.
But by what, exactly?
???
Something?
Nothing?
It was difficult to say.
It looked as though polar lights had taken on vaguely humanoid forms—no noses, no mouths, no ears… not even faces.
And yet, they had eyes.
That part was clear.
To anyone listening, the room was dead silent. Not a single word was uttered.
Was it because they had no mouths?
No vocal cords?
Or had they simply chosen not to speak?
Only they knew.
But in truth, they were conversing.
In a runic language only they could understand, of course.
The green form, eyes sharp and gleaming like shards of emerald, spoke first:
"As I was saying—we need to do something about those pests in Universe 236-B. We're losing ground."
The red form, whose half-lidded eyes flickered with disinterest, replied lazily:
"Sure we will. Right after we decide we want to get ourselves erased."
The orange one, visibly irritated, cut in:
"Hey, Seer, how are the humans doing? Been a while since we left them our gift, no?"
The way it said Seer carried a note of sarcasm, clearly referencing an inside joke from this particular group.
The one addressed—the translucent grey form, fluid and shifting like smoke trapped in glass—answered with composed detachment:
"It seems they've made some use of it. Though, as always, they're too busy infighting."
Green's tone soured with frustration:
"At this rate, they'll kill themselves before They even reach them."
Just then, gravity twisted.
Space bent in on itself, and a new form appeared—blue, like a tear in the ocean sky.
The Seer straightened, its voice calm but focused as it addressed the newcomer:
"???, did you warn the human? With that space mana of his, he'll one day reach a point where he'll tap into time magic as well…"
"Yes, I did," answered ???. "It went without a hitch."
"Good," replied Green. "Then we wait."
Red slumped deeper into its chair. "Always waiting. Are we even sure They are coming?"
"They always do," Seer answered calmly. "Across every pattern. Across every branch. The signs repeat."
Orange scoffed. "And yet, we're still here debating instead of preparing."
"What would you have us do?" Blue's tone was sharp now, colder. "Send more warnings? Break the Accord? Interfere again and risk another collapse?"
"They've already broken the Accord," Orange shot back. "Twice."
"That's not confirmed," Red muttered. "The void anomaly could've been natural—"
"Nothing about Them is natural," Green interrupted. "You think the Vanishing of Axis-14 was coincidence?"
"Their hunger grows," Seer murmured. "This time, they won't stop with a single layer."
Blue leaned forward slightly, the candle's flame stretching in its direction. "Then we should decide now: containment or confrontation?"
No one answered.
The flame crackled softly, a sound too mundane for such a place.
After a pause, Seer finally said: "We vote next turn."
"Next turn?" Orange echoed. "Time won't wait."
"No," Seer said. "But fate might."
And they all silently vanished.
Leaving an empty table in their wake.