power locked up

From up above, the Beings Watched. They could not participate, but they could observe. They could not participate, but each was itching to. For after you have unrestrained power, you can not suddenly stop having it. After you are in the heavens, it is much harder to fall. They had not fallen. The room was locked up in space with no location. It was here, and it was there. It was everywhere, and it was nowhere.

They watched as the Omega Planet burned. They saw the game, they saw the men who ran the plays, they saw Hūr, they saw his father, they saw the girl in the clearing. They saw everyone. And yet, they could not partake. They did not want to, much, either. They wanted their powers. But they knew what had to be done. In this room, they could not control the outside. The Toy Master twirled his fingers, hoping hope against hope that atoms would listen to his commands. They did not. Not anymore. Not for as long as he was here. The Clock Watcher had his eyes closed. He knew he could not see time in its true form anymore. But he didn’t want to confirm that. Because if he did, then… then, he did not know. He kept his eyes closed tightly. Shut as hard as they could be. Hard enough that mortals’ eyes would burst out of their sockets in a symphony of agony. But his did not. He just felt pain.

The Authoress. The Authoress sat and watched, eyes transfixed to the spectacles that were happening all over earth. She did not want to watch. But she had to. The future depended on this. She had had second thoughts before walking into the room, but she could not stop what was written. All three sat bored, after eons of controlling the very elements that made up time and space, they could no longer. 

And she was worried. And she was scared. And she was concerned. She had never cried. She had written it. For others. What it felt like. Why they would. But she felt the beginnings of the pain in her eyes that she had written about so many times. It felt strange. It felt familiar and like a stranger at the same time. She wondered why. A strange thought crossed her mind. She had written everything, but she had not written this. Who wrote this? Them? She looked at the ones down there. Him? She looked up. Who wrote this last bit? Her eyes burned, as if right before brimming with tears. She looked at her siblings. All three of them were genderless. All three had just plopped into existence, fully formed, already with purpose. What would happen if they cried, if they laughed, if they were angry. She was worried. She was scared. For she held a secret, she could not see all of the book, not anymore, the one that she had written. But she could see a few pages ahead of time.