This is the last written episode, all the following episodes will be in a comic format! Before we begin, this is my oldest series on the wiki. I want to say thank you to everyone for supporting me on this thus far. I'm sure a lot of people don't remember this series too well as it was almost 2 years ago when I last made a genuine episode. Thank you all, and enjoy!
As per usual, I'll stick to the original style of keeping these fairly short.
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The dust billowed, leaving a thick fog in the canyon. Leftover rubble still tumbled from atop the narrow walls. Pinaco could hardly see, everything in their body ached horribly, a vast feeling of guilt clouded them far more, however. He should've done something. Anything. Why bother to talk to the Oviraptor, when far worse concerns were at hand? The land was still plagued with death, the threat still near, his friends fighting. No matter how stoic he had been, it wasn't enough. Creatures should never coexist like this. Were they all even friends? Was this all out of desperation? Pinaco himself had no clue.
Nameless creatures wandering through a desert, following tiny clues and mysterious words for what they could only hope to not be some facade. The footprints had already been a lie. Why did he even rely on all these animals? Pinaco didn't need them. He could do this all by himself. Maybe with the original four. Velo, Proto, and Ovi. If they hadn't been so pitiful, and dragged around whatever survivor they all could find, this mess wouldn't have gotten worse.
He quickly shook his head, ridding of debris resting on it. These thoughts were no help, there were far more vital things to pay attention to. They had all made a promise. Pinaco wasn't going to be the one to break it.
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The air was humid, avian creatures chirping on the treetops. A valley carved with rivers like chisels on pottery, the clouds providing shade in the large clearing. Hump-backed waders fed on the water's flora. The only abnormal sight within what appeared to be a paradise was the darkening grass.
The dirt bubbled slightly, tearing at the grass around it. Ash-like particles filled the air almost instantly. The defenses around the canyon millions of years ago did nothing to stop it, a plaque scorched the ground.
Late.
Far too late to stop it now.
I'll know.
My claws are forged of the stars and sky, curving around the earth. Wings serve as a blindfold from my own illumination, a curse of my kind. Never to walk among Earth as one form, only to watch and alter what I can. Left to history unknown. Yet no alteration, no power, no warping of the universe, no covering of bones, nothing can stop what I see. An observer trapped in the hell they created. Dust I watched this world be forged from, and now I will watch it crumble. Slowly and horribly.
I have tried so dearly, I have broken timelines, dragged creatures from elsewhere, all have failed to stop it. I have lost my temper, and now I will pay the price. My creations, all to be gone by the next dawn. Time will not heal this wound. Webbed hands to shelter from the sun, a tail to keep the world steady, none of it is enough. It is beyond my control.
