Their Creators Novels & Stories

That had been the reason that Rafe and the others had come looking for me, ironic to think that an intern journalist and her photographer would pose such a threat to the creations, it was laughable actually. Turning my attention toward Jeremy, I merely shrugged as I tried to understand where any of this would eventually lead us. It was clear that the creations wanted to silence this information, but what freaked me out the most was that our own kind, our own human species of elites were behind something far graver and thought nothing of hanging the rest of mankind out to dry. “So what do we do?” I asked him as I still sat staring at my now cold cup of coffee. Tilting forward Jeremy picked up

I asked, changing the subject. "It's a place created by the Unknowns, kind of like hell for the soul." "That's a good description of the place since that was how it felt to be there," I said, leaning back. "What do you know about the Unknowns?" Kenmei gave a lecture on them in his class at the Seven Magics Academy. Supposedly they enjoyed interfering with the creatures of Earth. "They are the creators - of everything." His voice was quiet like he didn't want to talk about them.

Others might not know, but Jayden had analyzed with Eranthe that the main creators of the game usually came from behind-the-scenes big bosses. In her mind, Colin had never been associated with the word "game," and she couldn't believe he was the creator. Colin, preoccupied with the idea of devouring her, didn't have time for her questions. He nonchalantly responded, "What's surprising? Is it that hard to believe?" Eranthe was speechless. No wonder this man was so confident; probably all the money he gave to Adrian was just a drop in the ocean. The wealth gap was too vast, and Eranthe felt a bit overwhelmed.

“Not just yours. Every public interaction it’s ever had.” Lila stiffened. “It’s followed other people?” “Yes. Quietly. Briefly. Sometimes only for minutes.” Jade frowned. “Creators?” Amir nodded. “Almost exclusively.” My finger hovered over the trackpad as I pulled up a graph—nodes and lines branching outward in a web that made my stomach twist. “These are accounts it’s followed in the past six months. Small creators. Mid-sized ones. A few big names.” Lila leaned closer. “What do they have in common?”

Their children had just been scared and angry. The creators said, "We tried hard. We gave them everything. We gave them worlds and endless possibilities.. It was not enough. They wanted to be creators themselves. So they hurt us." Kael said, "I can help you. I can heal you. The Crucible and the Revision are meant for this. They are meant to help you." The creators thought about this. "What happens to us if we heal?" they asked. "Do we rule again? Do we punish the people who hurt us?"

Elias remained beside Elara. “Who is the First Creator?” he asked. Lyra swallowed. “The one who created the four.” Elara frowned. “You said the four creators made the worlds.” “They did.” “Then how did they come into existence?” Lyra looked at the four creators. “They were created.” The Creator of Flame finally spoke. “We were never supposed to tell you.” Elara looked at him. “Why?” “Because knowing about him would make you a target.” “I already am a target.” The Creator of Flame looked away.

He insisted. “No mortal is older than the kingdom of kings, nor the creators. She is just a mortal my prince. If her origin comes from the genesis of the universe, even before the creators were created, then who created her? As far as we can tell prince Zula’an, has already been told. Permit the creators to go back to sleep” And so, he did. They returned back to their spirit rest, leaving their body as statues. “There is only one person resistant to the power of the creators and that is Dah'ila. But she is no more. Even if she is, the creators would have traced her origin back to the heavens. This is unprecedented!" He pondered aimlessly.

a roar erupted from the forest. Elian lunged from the brush, his small hands glowing with the "Refined Ink." But the ink didn't turn into a blast. It turned into a Shield of Equations. The boy was instinctively trying to speak the language of the Lab, trying to "Code" his mother into safety. The Architects of the Void The mechanical eye blinked. The sky rippled, and three figures descended on platforms of solid light. They weren't humans, and they weren't machines. They were The Creators. They were spindly, multi-limbed beings whose skin was composed of "Pure Intent." They moved with a fluidity that made the Real World look like a stop-motion film.

The word came out stronger. More desperate. "I don't understand." "You weren't meant to." The answer was gentle. Almost comforting. Nova hated it. Because somehow it sounded true. The Seven stood silently. Origin. Lyra. Aurelion. Malakar. Seraphine. Orion. Veyra. The oldest beings in existence. The creators of realities. The architects of creation. And every single one of them looked shocked. Even Malakar. The First Creator. The one who claimed to know the truth.