—Listen —it said to Renn—: If Sera wins, her victory will be seen throughout the universe by all forms of life. At some point in their time, the sky will light up so brilliantly that it will outshine the light of their suns. The explosion of her victory will carry the elements of life to every corner of the universe.

—Some will fear, and others will rejoice, for they will understand that life is reborn, and with it, hope—a consequence of Sera. But…

—But what? —Renn asked impatient.

—But you will not survive. The force of the explosion will be so great that it will disintegrate you.

—On the other hand —the Voice continued—, if you win, you will create a gravitational force so powerful that it will hold planets together around their suns. Solar systems, galaxies, constellations, and clusters of galaxies will form. By keeping them united, you will prevent life from disappearing into the cold void of nothingness.

—Some will think you’re a monster, devouring suns and planets, but your force will be what sustains life in a large part of the universe. Sentient beings will sense your existence, but won’t be able to see you; they will recognize you only by a crown of light around you.

—Thanks to you, life will exist, and Sera will be with you forever, but without light and without strength.

Renn listened, somber, not knowing what to think.

—But in the end —the Voice continued—, one of you must win, and then you will no longer be together. That will be the price you must pay to create life in the universe, and with it, hope.

The Voice said something similar, or nearly so, to Sera and, shortly after, something curious happened: the intensity of their forces (always opposed) constantly adjusted to each other.

If either of them, tired of so much effort, weakened in their resolve, the other did the same. If the force of one of them increased, the other responded in exactly the same way. Never more, not even a little bit more.

Protons, electrons, neutrons, and more leaped everywhere; old elements disappeared to create new ones, and Mor continued to grow in an infernal dance of power.

Medium-sized stars, those capable of sustaining life, have an average lifespan of ten billion years; larger stars burn their fuel faster and live much shorter lives.

Mor, however, was an exception. It had already reached the size of many suns, had lived for hundreds of billions of years, and showed no intention of disappearing.

—Something is happening —the Voice said, and it spoke to them again, always firm, always persuasive, always sweet:

—This cannot go on —it said—. Life must emerge. Creating and sustaining it is your destiny. That is why you were created. Your time of struggle ended long ago, and now it’s necessary to fulfill your mission. I ask you now to put all your will and passion into winning.

—Now is the time.

Sera and Renn entered into a fierce battle; nothing else mattered anymore—victory was the only goal. They began to feel things they had never felt before: rage, frustration, anger, passion…

Mor trembled, and at some point, it began to contract. The star’s size decreased rapidly. Renn was prevailing, and with every kilometer he gained, his force increased. The roar was deafening; every element, every atom fused with others, leaving no space behind.

Renn told himself, and convinced himself: —I will unite them all, I will unite them all, and around us, life will form. He could only hear the roar of the collapsing elements; he was intoxicated with this dance of matter and energy. The noise was deafening, but, suddenly he heard—or perhaps felt—in the distant depths, yet vivid… a sob.

He had forgotten her for a moment. Sera had not yet given up; she fought with all her being, with all her will, and inadvertently let out a sob—not of weakness, not of sadness, but of frustration.

Renn thought of her, remembered her with her brilliant aura, her elegance, her determination. He remembered seeing her deliberately lessen her strength when he could no longer sustain his own and the pride she showed in not acknowledging her noble gesture. He remembered her joyful, alive, and full of hope. He recalled the stories they shared, the secrets they entrusted to each other, and the dances they performed for millions of years, laughing, approaching and retreating as if trying to deceive destiny.

He noticed that as he thought of her, Mor had grown again. He recalled the Voice’s words, tried to focus again, tried to think of his mission… and couldn’t…

Without knowing why, without even thinking of his own fate, he concentrated with anger, with longing, with passion—all his strength on a tiny point at the center of the star, the source of the sob.

He could no longer bear it. It was painful to think of everything; he felt his very nature tearing apart, each part of him shredding.

—A little more —he told himself—, just a little more, and still focused all his being on that point, he concentrated all his being around the sob, and then, at the very last time he said:

—I’ll call it love.

He closed his eyes, and in the last instant remembered Sera.

—Goes for you.

And he saw nothing more.

…

A sudden explosion shook the universe; it was the most terrible, the most voracious, the most beautiful that had ever existed.

Millions of particles were hurled at unprecedented speeds, and among them, a rock that held that last element created in the final.

And thus, the epic story continues…

(Next: Pedro discovers something and…, well, first let’s meet Pedro)