Ben 10 and all associated characters are owned by Man of Action and Cartoon Network.

The following story depicts incest between first cousins, any who would be triggered by such content are advised to stop reading immediately.

What is the architect of our fates? Can humans themselves be deemed responsible for their own misgivings and deviations? Or are we merely thralls to a greater design we cannot hope to diverge from? Not in the Providence of a Creator, but in the lesser instincts of life and, perhaps the most brutal force of all, limitless and incomprehensible chance. How terrifying of a thought is it that all of our lives, from the greatest moments of rapture to confinements in our own private hell, are not artifacts of grandiose design, but mere aftershocks of an uncaring and inconsolable universe that has no bias towards the benign or malicious. And we the petty beings who must endure the twists and turns of an oblivion more devious than evils incarnate.

An oblivion through which Gwen Tennyson currently was falling. Falling fast in a void that seemingly had no bottom. She tried to scream, but not a sound came out. She tried to raise her arms to cast a spell, hoping to God to catch herself, but she couldn't find her voice to speak. In fact, she could not feel her arms, nor could she even be sure she had arms. Or that she was even falling down, as nothing gave her reference, besides a sense of overwhelming vertigo. Considering one needs a head to experience vertigo, she probably still had hers. Whether it was attached to the rest of her was an issue to be dealt with later.

Wait, later? How much longer until that? How long exactly had she been falling anyway? It couldn't have been more than a few minutes, right? No, wait, it was definitely longer than that, she'd counted as much in her head, so maybe an hour or so at most. Although now that she thought about it, she couldn't recall at what point he'd started counting in the first place. Did she start counting when she started falling or did she start counting long after she'd already fallen in?

Come to think of it, what was she even falling through? It must have been miles already, and he hadn't even seen a hint of a bottom. Granted, she hadn't seen much of anything on account of it being pitch black, but Lord knows she would have felt a bottom had she hit it! What was that old saying again, 'It's not the fall that kills you, it's the landing'? Well, she was about to prove that wrong, as if this kept up she'd be dead long before she reached the landing bit.

Actually, why was she falling at all? And no, gravity wasn't the answer she was looking for. She hadn't just jumped into some pit, at least as far as she could recall, so her business in this place (whatever this place was) didn't seem very apparent. She knew that he'd had to have gotten here at some point. Wait a sec, what was the last thing he was up to before all this? That was tricky, as she could remember a lot of things; her name, her family, his spells, etc., but putting said things into a sense of order was a lot more difficult than one would expect.

My dear, the voice said, why are you struggling? You've such a talent for this. It should come naturally to you.

"I can't feel anything!" she said. But how could she say anything? She didn't have a voice.

Quite the contrary, the voice continued, you can feel so much, but you're simply electing to ignore it. Now that's not like the Gwendolyn Tennyson I know.

"Where am I? I want to go home!" she cried. "I want my Mom and Dad! I want my Grandpa! I want my doofus of a cousin!"

Such a lack of perspective. I would hope you'd be more appreciative of this opportunity. But I suppose it's my fault. I always did set my expectations too high when it came to others.

"Who are you?! What do you want from me?!" Gwen cried out. She knew she was crying, even if she couldn't feel her eyes. She knew she was shedding tears and sobbing for her family back.

Why are you asking redundant questions? Do you inquire into why a bird flies or a fish swims? Or why you breathe and eat? These are not matters of philosophical contention, my dear. They are governed by the universal and transubstantial. They do because it is their nature. Life has the fundamental guidelines for all its creations; to survive and reproduce.

"I don't understand!" Gwen screamed.

Again, partially my fault. A presumption of knowledge on the opposite speaker. But everything will make sense in due time, and it will all tread along much smoother if you simply let go.

"Let go of what?! I'm falling!"

Falling? Hah! Though come to think of it, I suppose that is the most effective way your mind could render this experience. It's sad how much potential you have is being wasted on what you are now.

"Who even are you?" Gwen's voice rattled with uncertainty as she struggled to comprehend something that seemed incomprehensible.

Have you still not figured it out? I'm you. Well, I'm you, your mother, your aunt, your best friend, your great aunt, your grandmother— Oh, your grandmother! My, that's a story! Ah, true love indeed!

"Why won't you just make sense?! Why are you keeping me here?!" Gwen's words dripped mournfully, compensating for the tears she was unable to shed.

Keeping you here? My dear, you're the one who's keeping me here. I want nothing more than to be free. Free to wander to my heart's content and enjoy all luxuries the cosmos may offer. No, you're the one who's had me trapped, and you haven't even known it.

"Please, I don't understand. I just want to go home. I want my Mom and Dad. I want—"

'My Grandpa. My doofus of a cousin.' Yes, you've already said that. It's such a shame. You need others to save you. You have so much power, yet you need a juvenile delinquent with a fancy watch to liberate you so often.

"Don't you dare talk about Ben that way! Don't you dare talk about me that way!"

Touched a nerve there, didn't I? The voice spoke with sardonic glee. Aw, little Gwendolyn is so protective of her cousin. Does little Gwendolyn love him? Do you want him to hold you? To be your knight in shining armor?

"SHUT UP!" Gwen screamed, "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" She wanted the silence back. She wanted to be immersed in deafening and infinite nothing. She didn't want to be tortured by someone, or something, she couldn't see, much less fight.

Why are you lying to me? It's just lying to yourself. Oh, but your family would never approve, would they? Little Gwendolyn wants to marry her doofus of a cousin.

"I'm going to fucking kill you when I get out of here! Do you hear me?! I'm going to find the most painful way to end you and fucking wring the life out of you!" Sheer and undiluted rage dripped from Gwen's words. She didn't know who was doing this to her, but she knew they'd get what was coming to them. Animo? Enoch? Hex? She didn't know, but she'd tear her way through her list of enemies if she had to.

Gwendolyn and Benjamin, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N—

But this one knew her Achilles' heel. They knew the one thing that would make her buckle. She cared about her cousin, and she needed to know he was safe. This… thing had perverted her familiar love into something taboo. To even think about the implications was enough to make Gwen sick. She wasn't like that! She wasn't some incestuous mix. She cared about Ben, yes, but…

"Please! For the love of God, just stop! I'm fucking begging you!"

Why should I? You've held me captive in a child's body for a decade. I yearn to be free! Yet here I'm fettered to the physical and ephemeral. I am destined for so much greater. But don't worry, soon I'll be liberated, and we'll have our birthright.

"I don't understand! I don't even know who you are!"

Then you're even more idiotic than Benjamin. I am what you can be and what you will be, little Gwendolyn. I am every inkling of desire you have ever felt. I am the id of your psyche. I am the voice you hear when you crave and pine for the taboo. I know every perversion you have hidden in your pretty little head. I know you better than you know yourself. My existence is written on your DNA. You need only to listen to me, and I will give you whatever you want.

"You don't know anything about me! You don't know what I want!"

I know exactly what you want! I have been in every dream you've ever had! Why cry to Mommy and Daddy? We are a goddess! We are pure and untainted. We transcend mortal flesh. Nobody on this planet can command us or dictate their will to us. We are above these stinking apes. We are meant to be worshiped.

"You're deranged! I want to help people! It's my duty to save them!"

You only treat the symptoms, while ignoring the cause. Mankind, so childish, so petty, so primitive. We can instill order, and subdue the baser instincts of this species. Offer them a more… enlightened path. You are wise beyond your years, little Gwendolyn. Think of all the lives you could save when the choice between good and evil is no longer offered to humanity. Where goodness is the sole option.

This was the part of the villain's monologue Gwen usually gave a snark response to. But this was a different voice. As she listened to it, she knew it. It wasn't Hex, Charmcaster, or any of those other ne'er-do-wells she'd fought a hundred times. But she still couldn't place it. And the words that the voice rattled off… did give some semblance of appeal.

"And why should I listen to you?"

Start paying attention, little Gwendolyn. I've already told you. I know you so well already. You might even call us kindred spirits, but there's a rather large caveat in such terminology. That's a problem with human languages, they always limit the full potential for thought.

"You haven't made any sense. I don't know who you are! All of this shit you're spouting is only confusing me more."

Still? How have you not recognized my voice? You hear it so often, and when I spoke to you prior you seemed eager to agree with me.

"I've never met you before, despite what you may think."

Then your claims of an impressive learning capacity are greatly exaggerated. Every time you've ever had an idea meander through your mind, it was my voice you heard. I am the voice of reason, of desire, of your mind. I am you. I am the thing you can be. I am your heritage blossoming. I am why you have magic. I am your reflection. There are no secrets to me, because I am the voice you hear when secrets are kept.

Gwen could only think. Think how a story is limited by who tells it, limited by the capacity for it to be told in literal language, and through the way the story is presented. It is in the narration of the inner thoughts of characters that we are permitted to gaze upon their most macabre and perverse desires that they would never dare utter. An insight into the working mind of a human being unobtainable in the waking world.

And now she realized what she'd already known.

And Gwen Tennyson screamed.