Titans of Chaos

Your wife, Leucosia, speaks: There is another force in this area. We detect the chaoticists: Titanshadows, larger than universes, fall across all the themes of the overworld. They are far away, butstill we hear the echo of their dread music.

Parthenope speaks: My Lord Husband, send aid quickly, or the prey is escaped!

A much louder gong-note, rasping as if to shatter all the lower dimensions, vibrated through thearea. At first I thought it was an answer, perhaps from the Lord Husband these two sirens sangto-but no. The character of its existence was different. The sirens were real, and my fifth-levelsenses told me they partook of reality. The voice came from somewhere beyond reality, neitherbelow nor above it, but somehow, simply, starkly other-Phaethusa, daughter of Neaera, it is I, Thrinax, your half brother, son of Rhode, consort of brightHelios. I am sent from Myriagon, from the golden towers of infinity, because I once enteredSaturn's submicroscopic world, when I overthrew the Telchine, our helpless enemies, and broketheir power

A weapon of light is mine. Insubstantial, its stroke cannot be parried. A breastplate of sevenvirtues encircles me. Impalpable, it cannot be pierced. I am the warlord of our realm of endlesscrystalline peace. The time-restrictions of the Saturnine singularity do not permit you to drawmemories of me from the aeon-filaments where I dwell into that tiny coffin of a universe nowrestricting you.

I waited aeons, but have bent the years so that, to me, it was but an hour; and the name of theHour, your father's servant girl, when we should meet, was told to me. All, all has been done sothat you may answer.

Was it talking to me? I tried to form words in this strange relational-set language. I had an organfor producing a frame: "Help me! They are going to kill me!"

Helios is cognizant, on several levels, of the threat. You are too small, at present, for us to reach.

The entire sidereal universe of Saturn is no more than a black spot on a slide in the library ofHelios. However, the infinite can save the finite in a way you cannot understand.

"What can you do?"

We stand ready to avenge you.

"What?"

The puzzlement of a world of perfect immortality, perfect evil, confounds our mathematicians.

Hence, the final solution is prepared, an absolute crime. I summon Phlegon! He progressesthrough eighteen millions of collapsed relational sets!