It Is Not Finished

Simon felt something move next to him, and turned to look. A raptor stood next to him, a beatific, sinuous creature with ironically soulful slitted eyes.

“Yo, Dad,” Billy Christ said, “I haven’t forsaken you.”

“Me neither,” said a gorgeous, pulsing coelenterate. It took Simon a minute to place him: Steve Christ, from World Two. Simon looked around and saw his five sons, the five martyrs of the five worlds he’d made.

He didn’t understand, he’d only created one Savior on purpose, and only so he could build the Army Of Souls to save Angela.

“Yeah, but that was an act of Love, Dad,” said Ashmagis Christ, a two-foot tall rodent with rabbit ears and golden eyes that endlessly and unconditionally forgave and adored Simon and everything else they fell upon. “You’re such a softy underneath the whole badass wizard shtick, you couldn’t help making worlds you loved. And that was, like, the dustmote that starts a snowflake.”

“So we’re all here for ya, Daddy-O,” Wook Christ twittered as he landed on Simon’s shoulder.

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