Jon re-ends the world. Destroys most of it, really, after he consumes the entities/becomes them/Becomes. Then he rebuilds. He intends to make the people he cares for happy, which includes himself, so he does not bring Peter Lukas back. Martin’s mother does not get sick, and she is good enough. Mary Keay unexpectedly dies during the birth of her son, and Eric Delano raises him. Michael Shelley and Helen Richardson remain themselves, untwisted. He makes many changes, but mostly keeps things the same.
As for himself, he creates a hidden place. Hidden from ordinary eyes, anyways; he can See everything now.
This place he creates is a field, and a forest, with a river in it. It’s nice. He relaxes, Knowing nothing will sneak up on him, Knowing nothing unexpected will ever happen again. He Knows everything, and everything is as it should be.
Well.
There is one problem, he thinks, curled up on his ‘bed’, a mostly flat area of the cave he deigns as his home, covered in created furs and blankets and long scrawls of paper that he summons when he sleeps and cannot suppress the instinct to write down everything.
He has no anchors. This has rendered him some sort of beast-thing, solid to the touch but rendered out of infinitely dark ink, all fur, antlers, strong paws and sharp claws and fangs, and Eyes like storms and fires and death and webs, on him and around him. One night (one of the 3.675 hours of sleep he has gotten since he reincarnated himself), he was startled awake by a sudden sound, and had opened every Eye he had, giving himself a painful migraine for what was just a branch falling from a tree during high winds.
There are very few solutions to this problem. Martin is not the Martin he knew, and besides he does not want to drag him into this. Nobody on this Earth has been touched by the Fears, and if he can help it, nobody ever will be. Passive fear of being watched and spiders and death is more than enough for him. He would love a statement, but nobody alive remembers enough to give him one.
