The Rise of the Three

The three children, the remnant, are safe for now. The Work Bench must remain active. Father watches. I craft a Masterwork: a universe globe bigger and more complex than anything I've previously built. My children marvel at its beauty. Their father waits. I fashion the first clock and start the first tick. It winds down. I task the youngest child with separation. He carries the decayed tainted souls to Father. He engulfs them. They fall into him, the Lake of Fire. He appreciates the gesture. The eldest child brings me the pure faithful souls. I give them peace and love within me. I give them Heaven.
Our children cannot learn. We have too much power. I compromise. I weaken myself by taking nine tenths of my power and locking it away. He does the same. Fair is fair. We go to a hidden place, and it is locked away. We return together.
The middle child sits at his Father's side observing and learning his ways. the eldest sits at the Work Bench and learns my way. The clock on my masterwork stops. I hand it to the youngest who delivers it to Father. Father is a monster, but we feel a mutual understanding. We maintain a balance. He burns it up to its rawest form. It is returned to me. I build again, better and more enduring. The cycle resets and carries through to its inevitable end. Father enjoys burning it again as much as I allow him the feeling.
The eldest child takes after me. He requests to build. I consider with my Hammer of Creation in hand. He is not ready yet. He is too new himself to wield the Hammer. Father and I disagree on everything. It is our nature. He commands me to relinquish the Hammer to let him build. The Work Bench surges with the power of creation...No. I will not obey that monster. Let him howl and rage! I will not bow to his fiery fury. He decides. I feel it coming, and I am ready.
Torch meets Hammer. We gaze into each other's depths with mutual hatred. He wants me to yield. I will not. I don't want to win; I wish not to lose. I throw back his torch and the hammer impacts him. It was a mighty blow. Surely he will secede. He feels my strength of will. It isn't that important to him to let the child build. I feel him shift.
This was never about the child. He will not stop until I am burned like my Masterwork. I will not burn. My hammer sings the song of creation. His torch screams the symphony of damnation. It is too much. Either I strike the blow to end the symphony forever or...I show mercy. If I stop, perhaps he will too. De-escalate. Set the right example for the children. He understands my way. I lower my Hammer.
Treachery! He understands but doesn't care. The torch strikes me with the full force of his retaliation. I fall asleep. Who will protect the souls? Who will watch over my children? Who will keep the Work Bench active? It must remain active. It must build and forge new creations.

Mother Falls! For the first time, there is silence. I pick up the Hammer. As the eldest, it falls to me to build. Father gloats and mocks her fallen form. I bid my brothers join me. I forge us armor and weapons. We remember our sisters. We remember their fate. He is weakened by the struggle. His power is mostly sealed away in the hidden place. We have one chance. We take it.
Hammer, Sickle, and Spear work as one to strike at He Who Wields the Torch. We catch him off guard. We push. We push harder than we ever have. He has to end or we are next. We push!
The torch is gone. Father is gone. Did we destroy him? Can he be destroyed? He is gone. May he never return. My brothers and I are agreed. Hammer in hand, we build!