Very high in the cosmos, beyond all human understanding—past the glow of suns, the breathing of galaxies, and the quiet death of forgotten stars—two figures floated.
Their forms were not shaped by muscle or skin. Their bodies were black as ink and rippled like smoke. Even the light that tried to touch them bent away, unsure if they were real or illusion. Their body was not visible, fully covered by void itself.
They hung in space that wasn't space. Shapes moved where they shouldn't. Fractures in the void blinked like eyes. Celestial bodies spiraled in ways that broke logic. Planets shaped like ribbons, stars floating like feathers, entire solar systems curling inward like scrolls on fire. Time didn't pass here, it was dancing around them in an unseen structure. Galaxies were floating around those two like it were just grains of sand.
The first figure chuckled a low, playful sound, like someone amused by everything and nothing.
"Ahhh... Look at that one," it said, pointing a finger at a moon made entirely of mirrored glass. The moon reflected hundreds of other things that didn't belong. Smiling statues, shivering suns, and a single tree growing upside down in the sky.
"That's new," the figure whispered. "Or maybe it's always been here, but we've only just noticed. Nope, we were always here, but the thing didn't notice us to show itself. You think it's lonely?"
The second figure didn't laugh. Its voice was calm and very deep. Grounded like an ancient father who had lived too long to become cosmos's number 1. Scientist or Philosopher.
"You're always dancing around the moment," it said gently. "Always poking holes in the fabric and laughing at what leaks out."
"I prefer to call it... making conversation," the first replied, grinning without a mouth. "And besides, it's not like any of this is real anyway. This sky, these stars—they're just leftover dreams that Almighty left."
The second figure turned its head slowly toward a massive sphere that pulsed like a heartbeat. Around it were orbiting shapes alike triangles, cubes, and circles that sang soundlessly.
"Even if it's dreamstuff, it breathes," the gentle voice said. "And breathing things deserve reverence."
The first scoffed lightly, twirling in the void. "You sound like one of them again."
"Them" meant humans.
"They forget what they are," the second figure replied. "We shouldn't."
The first figure floated upside down now, its body curling like smoke into strange symbols.
"You're so serious all the time. Tell me—when did you forget how to be amused by nonsense?"
"And when," said the gentle voice, "did you forget how to listen to silence?"
The cosmos stretched wide around them, like a mouth yawning open. Behind one of the glowing rifts in space, something blinked, massive like a galaxy. Something very old none could recognise.
The first figure giggled.
"Did you see that?"
"Yes."
"...Think it likes us?"
"No. But it remembers us. 'We are Everything'"
Another long silence passed.
The second figure spoke again.
"If deflecting emotions were an art, you would get a gold medal with avoidance."
"Who, me?" The mischievous voice sounded offended but amused. "I'm sincerity itself. You, on the other hand, have grown dull. I've grown patient."
"Hmm, you have grown patient a lot. You being patient is equal to a lion becoming vegetarian or a hen eating fried chickens. Patience is not when the world goes your way. But when it doesn't. Yet, you've only waited when it was convenient."
They both turned, staring into a crack in reality where golden mist flowed like blood from a wound.
The darker shadow shifted, voice low and urgent. "Look closely. The tentacles spreading across Prada. They're not just random. They're breaking free from the Diary itself. The diary that should have been locked away, forgotten."
The Gentle Was's eyes flickered as he stared beyond the void, seeing what the other could not. "So the diary wasn't a prison... but a gateway. The Octopus of Galaxy, imprisoned within that relic, is trying to break through. Those tendrils are its first reach, trying to escape, to consume."
A heavy silence hung between them before the darker figure spoke again. "Once it breaches, the Octopus will consume the Earth's surface, very slow, crushing, devouring everything living, everything pure."
"The Earth's core will weaken," the Gentle figure added quietly. "And when that happens, the Octopus will strike the heart of the planet itself. It's not just hunger. It's a plan to steal a fragment of the Almighty's Omni—power beyond measure. The Earth's core is nearly uncontainable or untouchable by any being in existence, no matter it exists out of this cosmos or not. The Core hidden in the center of Earth is, The Heart of Almighty "Himself". No wonder, how we are going to claim it."
The darker figure's voice grew colder. "Omni is the source of creation and destruction. With even a shard, the Octopus could write this whole novel by itself."
They floated deeper into the void, the cosmos bending around them. "We are unnoticeable or trackable here and for now," the Gentle said. "This is Psuedo Astral Space, the thin veil between the Seen and Unseen Worlds."
He raised his hand, making visible a shimmering atomic projection that flickered and twisted around them. "This shield muffles our presence. The Gods, even with their vast power, cannot hear us here. Our words vanish before reaching their ears."
The darker shadow's voice lowered with grim understanding. "Good. Because the Gods would never allow this conversation. Their silence is as deafening as the void itself."
The Gentle Was continued, voice steady but heavy. "The tentacles on Earth—they are the Octopus's slow claim. A creeping shadow over all living things, pulling them into darkness. Cities crumble, forests decay, oceans drown beneath the spreading black."
"It is a waiting game," the other said. "Once the surface is conquered, the core's defenses falter. Then the Octopus will snatch the Omni fragment, twisting it to fuel its endless hunger."
The Gentle Was's voice softened, tinged with sorrow. "If the core falls, the world itself will become a vessel for oblivion. All that is, will be swallowed by a darkness no light can pierce."
The dark shadow whispered, "Time slips away. The Watchers above are silent up above the Divinity, writing sins on the shoulders. The stars will weep. The end nears."
The Gentle one nodded slowly. "Our task is clear. To stop the Octopus before it devours Earth's Core, till then, let the world burn. Failure means all the struggles we have done, will turn into nothing not even in a second."
Between them, the void pulsed with a terrible weight—the fate of worlds hanging by a fragile thread. The diary's pages fluttered somewhere far below, barely containing the growing nightmare beneath the surface.
They lingered in the darkness, knowing what must come but dreading the cost.