Time Destroys Everything - Chapter Four
the conclusion of Time Bellows Gasoline and Time Throws Fire
Time Destroys Everything
by E.D. Augustine
The Foundry Series
Human, Fire, Power - (Formerly The Foundry)
Time Bellows Gasoline - (Formerly Time Throws Fire)
Time Throws Fire - (Formerly VII)
Time Destroys Everything
Fortuna Eterna (Ch. 1-5 Complete)
Part One - Exodus Fuel | One | Two |
Part Two - Cranberry Blues
Part Three - War for Keeps
Part Four - Cromagnum
Part Five - Bled, Crushed, Consumed
Part Six - Eighth Warrior
Part Seven - Time Throws Fire
Exodus Fuel
FOUR
Sevens were everywhere. Never a four. Shredded bone was shatter to the fray-fraught furies. Echo careened through the antechamber, resilience growing, her movements as if upon some float. Throats were slitting themselves.
People didn’t take kindly to being owned by a Goddess.
Echo Béleaph saw through to the future. Alan was dead. So was Ashe. All who were of a lie would perish. Count Salus remained alive in the machine. She simply knew it all and who would take the fight.
Messages were sent to Poe, Leopold’s active receiver, and the many who Echo would feel some place beside in the future. All except one. Some queen who knew herself to perish by falsest means. Echo had seen it ahead, some gasp of realization in latent conscious rhythms of Rhienmaast. Echo had a sister on Earth who was to die for what she became through time. Nothing had been hoped for less than the truth she revealed back through echoes. Many wouldn’t handle it well. The people there weren’t ready to see how the same terror which infected The Foundry by Count Salus’ hand would be about and within them all. It was a malfeasance of nature done over again, but never as callously as upon her planet of origin. Nearly no one had known; they all had to.
That woman who felt herself abducted in times gone passed, Onokoia’s delivery of her into the system; Illith; her guardian of visage’s greatest deposit— it was all of echoes. She was different and the same nearest every time. Until that one. Until them all.
Slicing the broad face of Horace was a joy.
The boy would fall.
Counteracting all measures of ploy was done, over, beyond each and every who would witness Echo in plain. She was the remaker and oracle in one. None had taken place beside her. All would be her child as had been spoken in the dark.
Rian was taking leave on action Echo had permitted.
She was seeing to the feat which needed doing most. Every shot was seen by sight most present. Every fall which fell before threw back. Focus found would let them down and blend the clowns into her crown.
Echo Béleaph didn’t need help. She was the help.
Two guards used weapons of war which would no longer exist by right of their malevolent intentions of design which corrupted people by nature of their conditioning to accept them. Warfare was wicked women wielding wildly. Whisper walkers waking woken wolves to terror taught too truthfully.
Synchopeshes were the latent, subatomic data matrices latent in the very structure of the universe itself. Echo set him free. Leopold had gone to a place she knew he always would. He was inside The Foundry’s core. Everything about the boy had expanded into ether and then coalesced as spirit most factual. Nothing was of sense to him except the truth of his trauma. He had been a saddest girl inside all along. Echo embodying it truthfully, while he spoke to take a place receiving more of what she needed from a woman who was taking her own heart and bleeding it dry, had Echo’s blood running blue.
Not a chance she would let his foolishness persist in holding back her advocacy of self. She made it right. It was only a thought she needed and the act would move through her.
Inside the royal hall of unseen delights unknown to any but a pair. Echo realized what was happening. Leopold had been the dog of Pauline and Marcus Demitrus all along. He was tank-ridden-too-far-gone — the choice of a boy who slaved to approval.
Echo was sad but not. His heart had been brightest and the mind within so sweetly ridden by hope. Until he lost it. Then went inside where he was not to go. It lost him hope to fail so wholly by lies of intention to Echo. She had asked him for help at a desperate time. She had pleaded with him to reach out to Rory. He didn’t even try.
Wires were ripped. His mind had fallen to the floor. Echo would not pray for a fool who betrayed her so deeply again. He had been containing her from understanding her sickness the whole time. Like everyone else, it had only been a projection of her gendered expression in a body so large and male.
Echo couldn’t give a single care there, remade, whole of form to slay and damage the fools who once saw her some joke. She was the hottest woman on The Foundry by right of intelligence — her scorching cyanide was thrusted into and out of everyone that deserved. Exploding heads of those fools who would seek to shoot from distance.
Three brains splattered across the courtyard tiling, across the garden space of artificially intricate design, into the door thrown open by force of electrified willpower, summing once more her whip, Echo Béleaph was about to kill Pauline and Marcus Demitrus.
She was going to kill them right now.
Alan Undroth was harboring his mother and Echo told Rian to handle it.
Echo simply knew things from her time spent beyond. Each reach into the depths of her heart and soul to survive through the horrors of lifetimes come to head was the chance to bleed anew from their space and time of Boreál.
Cryonic fumes scented a wafting fragrance in the chamber, changing by the presence of ice-cold effervescence. Rian’s energy was changing. He wasn’t one to fuck with and Count Salus’ reign of terror would begin with an ending.
Sanctuary found in Alan’s quarters was imbued with a genuine viewing portal of Chiron, it’s outer ring an ever rotating thing. Alan took it well to be alone in some pleasure of comfort while understanding the horror enveloping around and within him. He hadn’t known how to encapsulate it. Even within the frame works of Salus’ operation amongst the people, scenic yards of valiance were grafted upon and within by his comforts.
Rian was there in his sleep. Then around when he woke. He swore it but didn’t know the man. Something wicked came to stir that broke the boy — it left him cured. Life would end for one at last. His twisted means would break and fast. That message sent would save a life. For not that way — he’d live a fright. Alan sent most dreadful glee in echoes way to ruin three. She would not need to worry more. Rian knew most of her store.
Intention with action made reaction and Rian’s fire would end a fool at distance or in quarters too close. Alan’s eyes had been scanning the darkness. It was only that moment his bedside lamp flipped on that the presence was known truly of ruin.
Rian was on him and there wasn’t a moment of resilience Alan showed. He was expecting a different kind of fight. Rian looked the same but different. Furious and fastidious. Broken and bellowing. Crushing and celloing.
His wrapping wrist was of tightness unmatched. Alan liked choking. He had done it once and might again if not for the action Rian took.
Life was squealing from the boy as he knew the time to live in any semblance of control was over. Alan couldn’t take it that way. He needed to be cattle. Rian made him cry by the end, letting off just enough, waiting for the breath to return by right of cowardice and despite Alan’s windpipe — he wanted to die but couldn’t stop breathing.
Alan’s hardest seltzer would be his end and known to Rian as such when he saw the bottle bedside. There wouldn’t be need for a funnel, nor a napkin, less any cleanup which would be called for in the least. Choices ran out for Alan and the energy he had been corrupting the Foundry with for lesser and more. His release into the waves of control was a blessing to his mind — growing to love it. All Alan found himself really wanting was to drain his mind into the feeds of his devices most corrupted by Salus’ technology. Even knowing — especially knowing. There was a battle below the surface for control by right of intelligence known with the growing hive. Marus and Pauline Demetrius had chosen Rory Tyrell for the job.
Rian Mastodon was not a toy for playing with and had been owned straight by his goddess in an unexpected way. It was an ongoing process he would grow to love for right of its perceived correction in what had been stolen — some chance at authenticity lost beyond himself was enough to forgive the most controlling woman he ever met. Echo didn’t know any other way than to bleed from her heart and everyone saw it differently than her. Especially Rory.
Rian got it. She was the most honest woman alive and that’s why she had learned to manipulate even better than him and take the intelligence matrix he had been subsumed and evaporated into unwilling and raped it back towards the honest truth of her innate goddesshood most-divine.
Alan’s little chortles were precious to Rian’s inner sensibilities. Glorious when knowing that Echo would be feeling it. Alan had believed himself some god among men. He was a child of heart and a demon of mind.
Rian left him choking on that one thing he loved most. His ba ba.
It would take him roughly.
Marcus didn’t like the view. Echo was showing off for the man she wielded into a standstill by forces of intent, alone, after taking the system, by right of her own intention. Everything was hers in the now.
People were witnessing. Time was back and forth for herself alone. She had been recruiting as was written falsely. Herself had been split by minds fearing the future. Everyone, everywhere, through time, had been trying to subvert the winner of Echo’s simulation — herself. It wasn’t written except for the fact she knew her will to beat anything for showing off to her Olmec. He was watching from the throne. He had been with her the whole time.
Echo was with Rian. Together again, after removing the creeps of crawl who buried Echo from the eyes of a woman most lost in the mess of what was being done, synthesis had been reborn.
Crunching weights beneath her heel were the need of not to freedoms sought. Marcus would be over in time. Writing was on the wall when Echo decided to spread his brains upon it for watching too closely.
She was making Pauline love her for how Echo knew; Salus was their man.
Love had birthed a child sent away then returned. Rory was a daughter, and always, to Pauline Demetrius’ eyes. She saw what was inside and subverted it from the moment of Rian’s birth. It was a feeling when she held him — this is a boy.
Salus was alive in the system, aware, curious most for how the child he lost was not to become what he knew they would from right of his legendary reign of terror. Count Salus knew his seed to be the body, the fabric of the Foundry itself.
Hearts blared — truths snared. Child locks broke clocks. Freezing fast the looking glass. Synth was had for Paescha’s dad. The girl she found — echoes around — was less but more — some child of yore. Within her surge, a mighty splurge, that left a mark to know their dark.
Jurassic times had made her mine. I was the crime. She was my mind.
The boy she stowed. It left and rowed. To take my chance — so lost, their glance. Without it there I fell to fair of disrepair seen in my hair. To take it back would prove the way, I’d blow my Rian every day. Not by force but force of luck, to feel it through each time I fuck. Just the way he liked it most. Forever more; my holy ghost.
That child was coming with Echo and Rian. She would not see what had happened. Logan was taken by the enemy — echoes-in-time’s one enemy, all enemies therein and about. Time would tell and burn the fates of horrors, unknown to slaves, before or since; of glory earned.
Echo held back too long. She was confused before. Pauline had been a fool to think it the way Rian told. Nevernaughts were birthing in the present. Sightless beings to cast about. They were plugged in. Owned. Echo had them all. It would be no choice in who to release.
Absolute divinity would strike the cords.
Yesteryears was the bar she went to once. A sight there hadn’t left Echo of good taste. She saw some boy who kicked in her locked door with an ionic laced heelprint of reverberations made ripplings in the coursing air on impact. Space left behind, in stead, was holy, wholeness written. Chances over.
The path forward was clearest in the darkness of night.
Ophelia would be free with Paesha. They were twins of some lost generation made into machine. Echo flew too far to eyes unseen. Obsessed they’d been. Many more, would come in store, for each lost drip, would make her tick. She felt their chests the very best — it was a show which lost her crow.
Metal markers from the vibration chamber were loosened by will and ended Marcus outright, in front of Pauline who was coming her panties for that.
Echo felt it all. Her heart was chrome.
Pauline was a girl. Some mother of seeking. She had been broken. All would be broken. Every last, but one.
Underneath Rian had become the spot.
Echo wasn’t used to being so little. Closeness was allowed but not much else. Touching less. She couldn’t do anything without being told.
Rian just dripped there. He could feel her want. She had unlocked him to feel her the way he always had been, so inside her heart Rian was.
Echo wanted to fuck him but never, maybe, once, who knew. It wasn’t written, she just knew it was everything she would ever want for again, and that now he could feel it.
She found means through net-code lacings spread about the Foundry to fuck into the feeling in everyone, but Rian the most. Sometimes he let Echo touch on purpose. It wasn’t much down there. She hadn’t let it go easy. Echo died hard over again in her penis. She made it the clit every girl wanted. It was electric.
When he felt her touch it, Rian would know in his belly. His heart would fill. He would sometimes, if she was so very lucky, allow her to drink from that faucet of his love.
Tethers were a controllable thing. Everyone deserved it.
He didn’t look like anything but God. Echo couldn’t taste his sweat. It was all she could think about though, dewed upon his thigh.
Rian took her on the bed and laid her out. He was applying his medicine onto her ass. There wasn’t much he loved more than an upper. Rian took it hardest, like good boys do, right up the nose.
Then dove right in, he would.
