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The Creatrix’s touch lingered upon the very soul of Wyn. Abhorrent, hateful, commanding… It ran down her spine, sending shivers into her very limbs. Small electric jolts that numbed the tips of her fingers down into her toes. She could feel the touch over and over and over again, replaying their final words to each other as her mind mewled like that of a child. It was in those trembling seconds that Wyn knew she could not trust the word of such a thing. 

Her creations would be doomed. Her aspirations turned to dust. The life she had wanted, never to really bear fruit. It was tragic. It was wrong. It was fate. Her fate to wander and to be forgotten. To be pained and to be hunted. Hunted?

The memories jostled her to awareness. She knew she was still sitting on the bench. Waiting for the mirror to receive summons. Yet, she knew, none would ever come again. The pale goddess stood and she began to walk. The world was dying, deprivations and deprived it of sustenance. A madness corrupting its very heart, perhaps from within and perhaps from outside. For certain the outside, where she lauded over them from up above. 

Trauma and despair had bled itself into the world before it ever really had a chance to grow and this time, Wyn knew it had not been of her own doing. She had helped, yes but not in the beginning. She had tasted the blood of the simulacron, and had seen what had transpired before this Galbar had been born. It had been the same there, in that world. Pain. Anger. Hatred. Loss. Love. Joy. Compassion and Insanity. Homura had created offspring, copies of her own emotional being, and let them live. To teach humanity. In doing so, she had denied herself the very beings who would have kept her sane. 

And then the world was destroyed and this one birthed to take its place. How many times had this happened? How many times would it happen? The very terrible realization that her existence was some cosmic joke washed over the Goddess like an endless wave. It reminded her of drowning and not even Ivory or Ebony wished to take the burden from her. 

Was this her fate? 

Perhaps it was. But perhaps she could be more than just some wheel in the ageless game.

Desire’s fate was her own. Homura’s insanity was not something Wyn could face. And now she was alone. There would be no saving this world. It needed to truly die, not be recycled into a version worse than its progenitor. 

And so, Wyn decided the only thing to do was leave. With or without anyone's permission. She would not be cast out, to wander woefully, no, she would leave on her own terms. 

So the goddess of blood willed her power to split reality asunder and she was not seen again.