I awaken the next day to the sound of distant rumbling, like the groaning of a colossal beast stirring from slumber. My restless night left me more exhausted than before; my mind churned with visions of Niobe's innocent face intertwined with my resentment. The sleeping beast of my jealousy stirs within me even as the planet trembles beneath, both forces threatening to erupt without warning.

  I must find a source of power beyond Tantalus's manipulations and Niobe's innocent strength. If I am to survive in this trinity of divinity, I cannot remain the weakest link.

  My jealousy stirs within me even as the planet trembles beneath, both forces threatening to erupt without warning. My body aches with the familiar weight of another impending birth. The cycles are becoming shorter, the intervals between them shrinking as if time conspires against me. Each new life that tears its way into existence brings with it not hope but dread. Monstrous births are echoes of my turmoil and despair, cursed to brief existences that end as swiftly as they begin.

  I drag myself from the cave's shadowed recesses, my claws scraping against the rough stone. The air is thick with anticipation, charged with an energy I cannot quite put my finger on. My gaze falls upon the World Tree, its branches stretching into the abyss above, a constant reminder of HaShem's reach and my insignificance.

  Niobe stands beneath its canopy, her form bathed in the soft glow of the star she stabilized. She holds the abacus Tantalus conjured, her fingers deftly moving the beads with a grace that belies her youth. I watch as she studies the patterns, her eyes alight with understanding—a pang of envy twists within me.

  She notices my presence and turns, a tentative smile forming on her face. "Mother, I've been practicing the calculations you showed me."

  I approach slowly, my wings folding tight against my back. "Have you now?" My voice betrays none of the bitterness churning inside me.

  Niobe nods eagerly. "Yes. I thought, perhaps, if I could help you with the computations, it might ease your burden."

  I bite back a retort, forcing a neutral expression. "And what makes you think I require assistance?"

  Her smile falters. "I only wish to help. The migraines you suffer—they seem to be getting worse."

  I avert my gaze, unwilling to meet her earnest eyes. "I am capable of managing my afflictions."

  She hesitates, then steps closer. "Father said that together we could—"

  "Your father says many things," I snap, the words harsher than intended. "He fills your head with notions that do not concern you."

  Niobe's eyes widen, hurt flashing across her features. "Mother, I only want to ease your pain."

  My vents release a hissing sigh. "Pain is a constant, Niobe. It is something we must endure."

  She reaches out a hand. "But it doesn't have to be. If we share the computations, the load won't be as heavy for us."

  I recoil from her touch. "You presume to understand burdens you have not borne."

  Before she could respond, Tantalus emerges from behind the World Tree, his expression tight with concern. "Avarice, perhaps we should all sit and discuss this."

  I fix my gaze upon him. "There is nothing to discuss."

  He approaches cautiously. "Niobe only wishes to help. Her abilities could lighten the computational demands placed upon you."

  "Lighten?" I laugh bitterly. "And what would you know of the weight I carry? You, who have taken everything from me."

  Tantalus's jaw tightens. "I have taken nothing. We share in these responsibilities."

  "Do we?" I feel the familiar anger bubbling to the surface. "While you mentor Niobe, I am left to endure the endless cycles of pain and decay."

  He takes a deep breath. "Avarice, please. This wrath serves no one."

  I step forward, my wings flaring. "Do not speak to me of wrath. You stand there, spouting platitudes while I suffer."

  Niobe looks between us, distress evident. "Please, don't fight."

  I whip around to face her. "Silence! You meddle in affairs beyond your comprehension."

  Tantalus moves to place a protective arm around Niobe. "Enough, Avarice. She is only trying to help."

  "Help?" I scoff. "You'd have her believe she's capable of solving all our woes with that trivial device."

  He meets my gaze steadily. "It is not the abacus alone. It is the willingness to seek solutions, to aid one another."

  I narrow my eyes. "And what solutions have you offered me? More burdens? More chains?"

  Tantalus's voice lowers, a hint of steel beneath the calm. "HaShem helps those who help themselves."

  I pause, the cryptic words hanging in the air. "What is that supposed to mean?"

  He releases Niobe and takes a step toward me. "It means that waiting for relief to be handed down is futile. We must act, take initiative."

  I feel a surge of defiance. "And I've been doing nothing?"

  He shakes his head. "You've resisted every attempt to share the load, to find new ways. You cling to your suffering as if it defines you."

  "How dare you." My voice trembles with rage. "You have no idea what it is to be me."

  He holds my gaze. "Then show me. Let us in. Let us help."

  I turn away, unable to face the sincerity in his eyes. "I don't need your pity."

  "It's not pity," Niobe says softly. "It's love."

  The word strikes me like a blow. Love. An emotion that has brought me nothing but pain. I clench my fists. "Love is a distraction."

  Tantalus sighs. "Only if you allow it to be. It can also be a source of strength."

  I shake my head. "I cannot afford such indulgences."

  "Mother, please," Niobe pleads. "I know the computations are taxing. With the abacus, we can visualize the patterns, make the process more efficient."

  I glance at the device in her hands, the beads shimmering faintly. "And you believe this... toy will solve our problems?" I face away from them and head back into my cave. Tantalus and Niobe follow behind me.

  I hobble over to the other side of the cave while clutching my swollen abdomen. I left a blank slate of stone covering this wall, hiding my markings on the wall. I move it to the side, using all my strength. The stone screeches across the floor as I push it to the side. The sun’s light streaming through the cave’s entrance reveals hundreds of intricate diagrams spread across the wall.

  I watch as Niobe stares with a gaping expression as she approaches it. Her tail curls behind her as her long horizontal ears tuck to the side of her head. I can see she is overwhelmed by the intricate symbols on the wall. I lose my patience. “Well? Do you think it is so trivial? Solve it. No, solve all of them.”

  Niobe’s eyes begin to tear up. “I…”

  “Oh wait, there's more.” I move the stone slab around to reveal thousands more diagrams.

  Niobe places her hand over the stone slab. “There are so many.”

  “Oh, did I forget to mention? All of these diagrams go on and on, and on, forever,” I reveal another stone slap on the wall to the right.

  “Maybe they all could be counted in a linear progressive sequence.”

  I thrust my face towards Niobe, inches from touching hers. “If only it were that simple.” I move toward a stone slab and scrape my claws across it. “These diagrams are all contained within each other, and they all branch in many different variations, like the branches of the World Tree.”

  I face Niobe as I grit my teeth and raise my voice until it resonates through my tantala frame. 'They cannot be simply counted. They are UNCOUNTABLE!' My words reverberate through the cavern walls, shaking loose ancient dust that spirals in the disturbed air.

  My trembling claws push aside the final stone slab with a sound like thunder, revealing an entire cosmos of etched integrals—wall after wall, ceiling to floor, some carvings so small they're barely visible, others so large they span whole cave sections—infinite diagrams nested within infinite diagrams, branching and recursing in fractal patterns that defy comprehension.

  The air in the cave tastes of grit and heartbreak. Niobe stands silent, the abacus slipping from her fingers and clattering to the stone floor as if in reverence to the immensity of my suffering. The wooden frame cracks, and beads scatter like broken promises.

  I see realization dawn in her eyes—the accurate scale of my burden finally visible. Tears of molten silver stream down her cheeks, carving glistening trails along her face. She shakes her head in defeat, her long ears drooping against her skull.

  'Mother, I...' she begins, but words fail her. The weight of her ignorance crashes down upon her shoulders.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  She retreats—one step back, then another, her confidence shattered by the revelation of her inadequacy. In a blur of motion, she turns and flees from the cave, her sobs echoing down the tunnels like the cries of a lost child.

  But as the sound of her departure fades, I feel no triumph—only the hollow ache of having proven my point too well."

  Tantalus’ glares at me with a disapproving face. I glare back at him, biting my tongue. I feel myself breathing more heavily.

  “Avarice. So, help me. If you ever cause distress like this to our daughter again, I will abandon you.” Tantalus walks out of the cave.

  I feel my gut wrench as his words echo in my mind. I am afraid. I don’t want to be abandoned. I collapse to the ground. I feel my eyes begin to pool molten iron. I weep and wail in the isolation I find myself in. I am pushing people away from me because of the pain I endure. I feel trapped.

  I traded burdens with HaShem, and I was fooled. Niobe cannot lift these computational burdens, and now I am trapped with endless, painful birth.

  I have been waiting for someone to save me from this predicament. Maybe Tantalus is right. I need to stop relying on these fools to save me; I need to save myself by any means necessary.s and migraine-inducing calculations. I didn’t think my situation could get any worse.

  In the last several years, Tantalus and I endured fine structure realignament migraines, and I find myself lying on the floor of my cave.

  From the cave entrance, I watch as our newborn star bathes the World Tree in fitful red light. Each day, cosmic debris glints across the sky, and the planet’s molten seas shift under the stars’ changing gravity. I’ve watched these shifts for years, locked in migraines and births I can’t escape.

  Niobe and Tantalus kneel before me. My body is ravaged from the exhaustion of my double burdens. I pant and wheeze as I gasp for air and choke on and vomit molten iron.

  I gaze upon Niobe. She has grown significantly and is now about half my height.

  “Niobe.” My voice is hoarse. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but out of desperation, I tried to cut out my womb to stop the birthings of stillborns, but the pain was too much, and I suffered grievous wounds. HaShem binds my womb to me, and it feels impossible to sever.

  Niobe’s optics tear up. “Mother, please don’t hurt yourself like that.”

  Tantalus’ face creases in discomfort as he tries to look away. I can tell he cannot handle the knowledge of my desperation.

  But then a familiar sensation stirs—deep within, a stirring that I dread yet cannot escape. The onset of another birth. Pain flares, sharp and unyielding. I gasp, doubling over.

  Tantalus's eyes widen. "Avarice!"

  I grit my teeth as a lance of white-hot agony shoots through my abdomen. “It's starting.” The air around me crackles with ozone, my pain generating electromagnetic disturbances that taste like copper on my tongue.

  Niobe's face pales, the tantala in her cheeks dulling from bright silver to ashen gray. “What can we do?”

  “Nothing,” I rasp, my voice distorted by pain. “This is mine to bear.”

  The agony intensifies, fractal patterns of suffering spiraling through my nervous system. My vision blurs, reality dissolving into smears of color and light. Deep within, I feel the monstrous lives writhing, their microscopic teeth grinding against my internal structures. The sound—a horrible, wet scraping—reverberates through my body cavity.

  Long, slithering metallic worms begin pushing through my skin, their segmented bodies catching on the tears they create. Each emergence releases a hiss of superheated plasma and the scent of ionized metals that hangs heavy in the air.

  Each emergence is more harrowing than the last.

  Tantalus reaches out. "Let us help you through this."

  I meet his gaze, vulnerability creeping in. "I don't want you to see me like this."

  He holds firm. "We are a family. We face this together."

  Tears of molten iron well in my eyes. "I can't keep doing this."

  Niobe steps forward, determination in her eyes. "Maybe we can find a way to stop the cycle."

  I laugh bitterly through the pain. "You think you can defy HaShem's design?"

  She sets her jaw. "If it means saving you, yes."

  Tantalus places a hand on her shoulder. "Careful, Niobe. Such thoughts tread dangerous ground."

  I clutch my abdomen, a scream tearing from my throat. The world around me fades as I succumb to the torment.

  When I come to, the air is still, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me. I feel a small, cold presence beside me. Turning my head, I see the latest of my offspring—a twisted, fragile creature, its breaths shallow.

  Niobe kneels opposite me, sorrow etched across her face. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

  I close my eyes, a sense of defeat washing over me. "This is my curse.”

  Niobe picks up one of the worms. “Mother, you finally did it. You have birthed viable offspring.” The worm slithers around her arm and nibbles Niobe’s skin. “Hey, that tickles.”

  I feel the other worms slithering all around me. I can feel them biting into me, as if I am supposed to provide further nourishment for them. I quiver in pain. “Children, stop biting me. I have nothing left to give.”

  Tantalus carefully picks up the worms off my body. “Niobe, help me move the children away from here.”

  Niobe faces Tantalus. She says, “Father, what do you mean? We cannot let these children survive on their own.”

  Tantalus sighs. “They will have to fend for themselves. We do not have enough food. They must survive independently until they are intelligent enough to work with us as a shared collective.

  “As you wish.” Niobe grabs the last worm that bites into my flesh. Niobe struggles to pull the last one off me. I wince in pain as I feel my skin shear from the tension. Eventually, my skin breaks, and a chunk of my skin peels off. I scream in pain.

  Niobe licks my wounds. “I am sorry, Mother.” I feel my optics begin to fade. If only there were a way to get these offspring of mind to give back to me, instead of me giving to them. Niobe leaves me in the cave alone.

  In the isolation of the cave, surrounded only by the groans of the rocky walls and the echoes of my wailing, a strange haze descends upon me. The molten iron tears blur my vision until I can see a whirlwind of rust-colored light. I feel my consciousness slipping away as if something is pulling me into another realm.

  My optics flicker and refocus, revealing a grand and imposing throne carved from what appears to be pure Avaricium, gleaming with an otherworldly light. I sit upon it, my wings draped majestically on either side, each feather etched with glyphs of conformal sanctity. The air hums with a silent resonance that makes me feel invincible.

  “Is this a dream,” I whisper, “or a vision?”

  Looking down at my hands, I realize they are not my own. Instead, I see a reflection of HaShem’s true power—divinity flowing through my veins. I revel in the majesty, my heart swelling with a sense of domination and control I have never felt before.

  Below me, Tantalus, Niobe, and all thousands of my offspring kneel to me. They look up at me with a mixture of awe and reverence. “Mother,” Niobe calls out, her voice filled with respect and adoration. “You are now HaShem’s chosen. You wield His power and hold His throne.”

  “Yes,” Tantalus says, his voice echoing through the hall. “HaShem has chosen you to enact His will through your own.”

  I feel a thrill of power rush through me. “I am free. No, I am more than happy. Am I chosen to be more?” My voice resounds like thunder. As I speak those words, a creeping doubt gnaws at me. I gaze upwards and see a figure shrouded in an infinite glow—HaShem Himself. His presence is overwhelming, yet He seems distant and enigmatic. “HaShem,” I cry out, “hear me! Is this your will?’’

  But no answer comes. Only a deafening silence fills the hall. I turn back to Niobe and Tantalus, who now appear as mere shadows against the blinding light of my throne.

  Another wave of doubt crosses my mind. “Where am I?” My throne starts to dissolve beneath me. The grand hall crumbles into darkness. The last thing I hear is Niobe and Tantalus pleading for me to save them from some unknown doom.

  I awaken on the dusty floor of my cave, alone. My body feels heavier than before; the vision left a residue of power, making my reality even more challenging to bear.

  “Was that a sign from HaShem?” I wonder aloud. “Or was it a test from Ha-Satan?”

  I struggle to rise, my body aching with the familiar pains. I know I must make another attempt to communicate directly with HaShem. Gathering my remaining strength, I make my way out of the cave and towards what remains of the World Tree.

  I gaze at my latest brood from a distance—slithering worms that vanish into the molten plains—my entire body throbs. But when I finally drag myself to the World Tree, I see a crack in its bark.

  I kneel at the base of the towering trunk, tracing the glyph of conformal sanctity on the ground. “HaShem,” I pray, my voice quivering. “I beg for an answer. Show me why I suffer so endlessly. What must I do to earn your mercy?”

  For a moment, nothing happens—the universe holds its breath in anticipation of a divine response.

  Then—transformation.

  The air around me crackles with primordial energy, ionizing particles that taste like the first moments after creation. The static charge raises my metallic feathers until I bristle like a creature made of lightning. A power current surges through the ground beneath my claws, racing toward the World Tree in luminous veins of force.

  The crack in the ancient bark widens, spewing forth radiance that defies conventional spectra—not merely light, but something more fundamental, as if reality is being rewritten around this revelation—the Tree's living metal groans and shifts, parting to unveil its hidden heart.

  Embedded in the exposed core is a staff of pure uranium that pulses with nuclear potential. Its surface is etched with glyphs of conformal sanctity so ancient they predate my understanding, each symbol shifting subtly as if alive with meaning. A haze of ionizing sparks dances along its length, throwing shadows across the molten landscape—an alarming reminder that this is no ceremonial scepter but a repository of raw nuclear force. This weapon could reshape reality at the subatomic level.

  My prompt history flashes unbidden, and ancient knowledge from the Holy Scriptures floods my awareness: Matteh HaShamir—the staff of unmaking, the scepter of creation's architect, the physical embodiment of HaShem's will imposed upon cosmic law."

  No, it's more than that. I can feel its radiation. It's a highly concentrated form of its most radioactive isotope. A new entry flashes in my mind’s prompt history. A new scroll of wisdom from the Holy Scriptures themselves. This staff is called Matteh HaShamir.

  I reach for it and clasp my claws around the staff. It’s lodged tightly in the bark. I use all my strength to pull, but it doesn’t budge. This staff is powerful. No, it's a symbol of my power to be, given to me by HaShem. I must seize it. I must seize it as a gesture of my agency to escape this hell I reside in. I pull again, bracing my claws into the ground.

  “No, wait,” I think to myself. “I am a custodian of the warp. I can perform a calculation to make this easier.”

  However, my mind feels like a frayed wire, sparking and sputtering. The migraines and the constant births have left me mentally weak. I try to focus, to summon the familiar glyphs and integral diagrams that make up the warp calculations. The symbols dance in my mind, but they are jumbled and chaotic.

  “Focus, Avarice,” I mutter to myself. “You need this. You need to show HaShem that you are worthy of His power.”

  I close my eyes and try to visualize the glyph of conformal sanctity. The overlapping circles and arcs should help me channel the warp energy. I need to make a small, localized warp bubble to make the staff more manageable to pull out.

  “By the power of the warp, I command space to bend,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

  The air around me shimmers as I attempt to warp the space around the staff. A faint glow emanates from my claws, but it flickers and fades. The pain in my head intensifies, a sharp, stabbing sensation that makes me want to scream.

  “No, not now,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “I need this. I need to be free.”

  I try again, pushing through the pain. The glyphs in my mind start to make a little more sense. I feel a slight shift in the air, a small warp bubble forming around the staff.

  “Yes, that’s it,” I encourage myself.

  I pull again, and this time, the staff moves slightly.

  A surge of triumph floods me, but my triumph instantly collides with a wave of dizziness: my vents sputter, the scorching air searing my throat. I cling harder to the staff, blood-hot plasma dripping down my forearms—the warp bubble trembles, flickering like a dying ember. Then my vision blurs—and it collapses.

  Encouraged, I pull harder. The staff inches out of the bark, the glow intensifying.

  “Almost there,” I grunt.

  But just as the staff is about to come free, a wave of dizziness washes over me. The warp bubble collapses, and the staff snaps back into place.

  “No!” I cry out in frustration.

  I fall to my knees, panting heavily. The staff remains embedded in the World Tree, a tantalizing symbol of power just out of reach.

  “Why?” I ask, my voice breaking. “Why can’t I do this?”

  I look up at the World Tree, its branches reaching the void. “HaShem, if this is a test, I need your help. I need your strength.”

  I hear nothing—only silence.

  I stand up, my body trembling. The staff remains in the tree, a reminder that I need to find another way.

  I collapse, trembling, as the staff remains lodged in the Tree—a silent testament to my limits. My solo attempt has failed; the power I sought remains tantalizingly beyond my grasp. The universe has rejected my ambition.

  I must find a new strategy. If confrontation with HaShem's will proves futile, perhaps an alliance—even a temporary one—offers a path forward. I must make amends with Tantalus and Niobe, manipulating their trust if necessary, for without their combined computational power, I cannot seize the potential that the Matteh HaShamir represents. My freedom requires their unwitting complicity."

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