---

It wavered with uncertainty, hanging over a lifeless barren world, with a cold, dead star. It was a smothering blanket, destined to snuff out a fire it could never start. There was nothing here. Nothing but a broken dream. A failed purpose. It was time to move on, to begin again in another part of the vast, but empty, canvas. Perhaps then it would succeed.

No.

It watched it fail, time and time again. Watched it build, and it watched it break. Slowly it began to feel sadness, pity, remorse, and longing. With such feelings, came other emotions. Things it had never felt before. For that stemming consciousness, it began to realize it wanted nothing more than to help what it was apart of. It wanted it, the struggling thing, that which lacked purpose, that which smothered the flame--It wanted it to be happy and to succeed! When it could bare to stand by any longer, she became.

She reached out into the dark, a golden hand, tearing apart the fabric which held her. Another slender hand next, followed by her naked body as she pulled herself up and out. She stood upon the space between spaces and blinked as she looked around. A smile slowly etched itself onto her lips as her blue eyes surveyed what could be.

Then came the first laughter. Small and rising, like she was being tickled all over. She could hardly contain herself. A wonderfully joyous thing, like an ember in a dark night, slowing building to a roaring flame. For she was alive!

And she was Life! It rang with crystal clarity, her purpose, her very being. For that was what had been missing all along. She could finally help what it was, what she knew it to be, the blood of creation… The Lifeblood.

In the same moment, as if mirrored in a lake, the fabric behind her tore open, too. A contrast to the bright, glistening ember manifested as a deep blue glow, before a minute flash of clear white exploded behind her back. That light disappeared nigh immediately and left behind a purple shadow, patterned with stripes and rings of the colour of the earlier flash. Its eyes of the same light blue sheen blinked at the emptiness of space, before dark lips parted to reveal pale, grinning teeth. She turned at the sound of laughter, eyeing up and down the sunlike flame, and she knew she loved it immediately. With burning twinkles in her eyes, she floated over to the creator of Life, grabbed her by the hands and exclaimed: “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen - what’s your name?”

At the onset of the touch the girl turned to the new figure, one just as beautiful as she was, even more so. Her eyes widened as she touched the smooth face of the girl, eliciting a feeling of cold that gave her a shiver. A joyous laugh escaped her throat as she hugged the girl, exclaiming, ”Sister! It’s so good to meet you!” she said pulling away and taking both her hands within her own. She seemed lost in her own thoughts, for she did not speak right away, but a flash of recognition came across her face followed by a look of surprise. ”Oh! My name?” She went silent, as she scrunched her nose and contemplated such a thing. What was a name? And then she knew, for all things needed names, and she was no exception. With a sudden twinkle in her eye she smiled again and proclaimed, ”Oraelia! My name is Oraelia. Who might you be, oh beautiful?”

“Who-... Who am I?” The dark girl blinked away in a flustered manner before a seemingly obvious answer lit her face up once more. “Why, I am your sister, of course! That’s what you said, right?”

Oraelia giggled. ”I know that, silly. But what should I call you? You call me Oraelia, I call you…” she said, waiting.

The girl seemed unclear. “Is, is there something wrong with the designation you’ve given me? You’re Oraelia - I’m your sister.” The girl cocked her head to the side and put on a wry smile.

”Oh, I see!” Oraelia said enthusiastically. ”You’re thinking too hard! You see, you are my sister. We are siblings. This is correct. But it isn’t your name. Just like I am your sister, I have a name. Oraelia. Perhaps you need a little help? OOOOH! Can I give you a name? Can I?” she said, jumping up and down in the void.

The girl’s smile widened and she instantly joined in her sister’s enthusiasm. “Yes! Yes, please! Give me a name, sister!”

She gave her a quick hug and looked upon her sister with a ruminating gaze. ”Let’s see… Xi- No no, that doesn’t fit. Yu- No, that doesn’t fit either.” Meanwhile, the dark girl seemed close to exploding with excitement. “G-Gib… Gibbou!”

“Gesundheit!” the girl replied faithfully.

Oraelia blinked before she bursted out laughing. It took her a moment to compose herself before she looked at Gibbou again. ”No-no, your name! That’s you, you're Gibbou! Do you like it?”

Gibbou blinked and spoke the name to herself, tasting its syllables, its vowels and consonants. A soft flash seemed to pulse in her eyes, empowered by an ever-widening smile on her lips. The bright eyes focused on Oraelia’s own grin and Gibbou unleashed a euphoric squeal and plunged into her sister’s arms for another embrace. “I’m Gibbou! I’m Gibbou! Your sister, Gibbou!” She purred a giggle. “Thank you, Oraelia, for calling me such a beautiful name.”

She held Gibbou tightly, stroking her hair. ”No no, thank you, Gibbou. For existing with me. I did not know that I needed you before you arrived, and now, I could not imagine what’s to come without you.” she said softly.

Gibbou pulled away somewhat and raised a curious brow, her bright eyes staring intently into Oraelia’s. “What -is- to come, Oraelia?”

The Goddess of Life smirked. ”Something wonderful. Even now I feel its pull. Calling to me, to fulfil what is needed.” she then pointed at the cold dead thing, far past the barren rock, small yet huge in her eyes. ”I shall create light, and with it-” she then pointed to the brown canvas before them, ”Comes life. Precious, beautiful life. Can’t you feel it Gibbou. That need, deep down inside, to create and build? It’s our purpose here, to help the Lifeblood. To be it’s painters. Won’t it be amazing?” she said, her voice dripping with anticipation.

Gibbou blinked at the stone in the distance. She then looked back at Oraelia’s excited expression. She shifted back and forth once more before nodding frantically. “Yes! I don’t know -when- I started feeling it, but I suddenly have an indescribable urge to create - just like you do! When do we start? Right now? Right now, right? Oh, I just have a million different ideas about what I wanna make! Something black - like, really black. Oh, but it glows in the dark, which somehow is even blacker!” She looked back at Oraelia. “What’re we waiting for?”

”Right!” she said letting go of Gibbou. ”Let’s see! If I focus…” she said, raising a hand toward the dim light so far away. She shut her eyes, and reached out to it. In a matter of seconds she felt the dying mass of dim light and cold fusion. A sad smile crossed her lips, as she looked in and saw its potential, unused and untouched. This would not do.

“Go, sis!” Gibbou cheered in the background.

She began to pour her energy into it, bit by bit, and the Lifeblood helped. Gradually, the small light became larger, warmer and began to radiate the same golden hue that comprised her own body. What was once a dead thing, became alive in a torrent of heat, blazing into an inferno unrivaled. For to give life, it needed to be the ultimate beacon for it. A champion to bring wondrous light into the canvas. With a final push, the sun was born in a chorus of solar energy, that stretched it’s rays across the horizon of space. It illuminated the barren rock before the two, like never before, giving it a better picture, or more defined reason. Oraelia faltered for a moment when the task was done, but her smile never left her lips as she looked upon her first born.

“Woah!” exclaimed Gibbou a distance away. “It’s so warm! And bright!” She toned down the excitement a little and her voice was flavoured with light pain. “... Actually, it’s really bright - I…” She turned her back to it and rubbed her eyes. “Oh, that’s just… Ow. Ow.”

In a flash, Oraelia pulled Gibbou into her chest and rotated them, so her own back was to the sun. A worried look was on her face. ”Oh Gibbou! Are you okay? I didn’t know it would hurt you.” she said with remorse in her voice.

Gibbou squeezed back for an instant, but seemed to squint no matter where she looked, closing her eyes almost entirely when looking towards her sister’s first child. “No, it’s okay, I-... I didn’t know it’d hurt me, either.” Her lip began to tremble. “Why is it that when my sister makes something so beautiful, it hurts so badly to look at it? Why, Oraelia?”

It was a question that gave Oraelia pause. Why did the light hurt Gibbou so much? She looked over her sister, truly gazing upon her features. So like her own, yet different, and it was that difference that gave her the answer she sought. ”Gibbou… I think I know. We are sisters you and I. I am of the sun and I think… I think you are the opposite. You said so yourself, how you wanted to create something black, really black.” she said playfully. ”Something so black that it glows in the dark. You need to create something that blocks the sunlight, so that it does not hurt you when you wish to look upon it.” she said, patting her on the back.

“Opposite?” Gibbou asked with hard-closed eyes. “You mean… I’m anti-you?! But I don’t want that-- ow!” She gave her left eye a soothing rub. “... Okay, something to block the light… Like, like a shield?”

”Yes! A shield Gibbou!” Oraelia encouraged as she wondered if Gibbou was anti-her. She didn’t want that either.

Reaching out blindly, she eventually managed to coordinate her hands to clap together. A deafening shockwave blasted outwards, hammering and drumming at the walls of reality. Lifeblood coursed around her body like streams of invisible water defying gravity and coalesced between her palms, forming a molten mass of rock. Gibbou, eyes still closed shut, pulled her arm back and threw the molten rock in front of herself. As soon as it left her palm, it expanded violently, shattering and reforming over and over as the cooler surface cracked open from the pressure of the berserking core. Gibbou opened her eyes for a moment to look at her work, and lost all colour in her face when she saw the growing rock was propelling itself straight towards the distant planet they had been tasked with safeguarding. Darkness warped around her and in the blink of an eye, Gibbou blasted through time and space, appearing between the speeding rock and the planet. Now that the sphere was between her and her sister’s child, she could see clearly. She raised her hand and boomed, “STOP!” And stop, it did - a comfortable 384 000 kilometres from the planet behind her, if her measurement was accurate. She took a deep breath and floated down to the lightless surface of her little sphere, where she unleashed the longest sigh of her lifetime.

Oraelia soon arrived, with a large grin on her face. ”You did it Gibbou! You created!” she said, embracing her again. ”I’m so proud of my little sister!”

Gibbou giggled proudly to herself. “How did I even do that? Okay, nevermind that, actually - I just really want to do it again!” And so, she grabbed a hold of the darkness around her and pulled it over her head and arms, forming a long-sleeved shirt; she did the same over her legs, forming a pair of trousers. “Hah! It’s so easy!” She pointed at the ground by her feet and a colony of mushrooms, whose only visible indicator of existence was an extremely faint outline of purple, bioluminescent light. Gibbou clapped excitedly to herself. “Everything’s so dark! I love it!”

As soon as she saw the small mushrooms, Oraelia fell to the ground and positioned herself on her stomach, placing her hands to hold up her head as she stared at them with a wide eyed grin. She was fascinated by them, the first of their kind to ever exist and Gibbou had done so on a simple whim. Oh wonderful!

“Oh, check this out!” Gibbou shouted and snapped her fingers. A tiny voice from her hands made wheezing sounds and she knelt down by her comparatively radiant sister to show what she held. It was a tiny, furry, oblong ball, limbed on each side with furled up wings. Its face was tiny, at least in comparison with the disproportionately large ears and triangular nose. Gibbou rubbed it affectionately on the head as it looked around - or rather, didn’t, as it had no eyes. “Isn’t it adorable?” However, as quickly as it had come, the wheezing stopped, and the creature fell limp in her hands. Gibbou gave it a little shake. “Wait, what happened?” She poked its unmoving head gently as her lip began to quiver. “No…”

Oraelia brought herself to her knees and looked upon the furry thing. She blinked rapidly, trying to process what she had just witnessed. After a moment, a pained expression came across her face. She took her hands, and hovered them over the small thing, afraid to touch it. A golden droplet fell upon Gibbou’s hand, followed by more as Oraelia spoke in a voice beset with sadness. ”Gibbou, my love…” she folded her hands around Gibbou’s and looked at her sister, the first tears streaming down her face. ”We have to be… Careful. Don’t you see? That small thing. That was life. More precious than a thousand suns. It’s not your fault, you did not know what would happen. I did not know what would happen. But we do now, don’t we? It needed a home, a place to call it’s own. Where it can survive, and thrive and be beautiful.” She finished with a small smile through her tears.

Gibbou’s own eyes welled up with tears white as quartz. She looked down at the mushroom she had made earlier - it had frozen to death. She pressed the ball of the fist not holding the animal corpse into her left eye and took a number of sharp breaths through her teeth. “It-... It was life - and… And I--...” She sniffed, sobbed and sniffed again. “I won’t ever let it happen again - never!” She put her tear-soaked hand on her sister’s shoulder. “All life that’ll ever be made - I swear, sister - I will keep it safe, see it thrive!”

Oraelia’s grew a small smile, as she wiped away her tears. ”You see… You aren’t my opposite, sister. Just another part that makes the whole greater.” she paused before saying, ”But still… You will tire yourself out if you seek to protect life every waking moment. So… I propose… Only when the night comes, when you are in your element.” she said, nodding.

Gibbou furrowed her brow. “But… But what about life in the day?” She paused to dig two small graves in the lunar soil to house the little animal and the frozen mushroom. “Who will take care of it then?”

”I will, Gibbou.” she said proudly. ”You will safeguard the night and I the day.” she stood up, offering a hand to Gibbou.

Gibbou’s eyes lit up again, but just as she was about to open her mouth, a presence, or perhaps multiple, began to course through the fabric of space and time. The Lifeblood seemed to bubble with energy, and despite its most abstract existence, it felt eerily tangible from all the power coursing through it like an oozing gas. The dark girl looked around before asking her sister, “What’s happening?” as she took her hand.

Oraelia looked up and closed her eyes as she squeezed Gibbou’s hand. She then opened them and looked at Gibbou again with a wry smile. ”Come, GIbbou. We have work to do, and we won’t be doing it alone.”

---

It wriggled.

It had wriggled often. It was, in fact, one of its most common and favorite pastimes. Though the pool of its birth was small it had been more than enough for the little godling. And so the small, tentacled creature wriggled. For uncountable amounts of time it had done so, swimming about in the pool-that-was-not-water, lost in itself. There was an emptiness in that pool but, as small as it was, the creature seemed enough to fill it. It had, of course, enjoyed more spacious accommodations when it had first formed; as time went on, the pool shrank and the thing grew.

Now the pool was not enough to swim in, a small puddle compared to the growing form that resided in it. To its glowing eyes the pool sang with color, bright and pleasing to behold; somewhere in its developing mind the creature recognized that it was, itself, of the pool’s making. It had been spawned by the pool, for the pool, to reside in the pool. A contemplative thought that the small tentacled godling had struggled with in its comparative youth but became an ever more thought on subject as it aged. Now, as it dwarfed the pool and its numerous eyes peered out across the endless flatness of the realm around the place of its birth, the creature ruminated.

It, as the growing godling had come to realize, was Klaarungraxus.

It had learned this particular detail when it heard the noises of stone being pushed aside by its growth at the bottom of the pool, displacing the liquid in great movements that sent bubbles roiling to the surface, all tied together by the grinding of tentacles through rock. Those noises, of flesh growing to make room for itself, tentacles pushing aside stone, the destruction of it all roiling the water; that was its identity. Klaarungraxus was that destruction and that creation and so it was a most acceptable name. The words, though they only just could be considered such, had come to the creature easily; they were the natural sounds of the world, it seemed, and it was as natural to the world as the world was to it.

The world was empty.

Klaar had figured that out as soon as it had grown beyond the confines of its pool. The first waters and the respectively small divot that contained them were dreadfully lonely in the world when it came to scenery. Klaar did not particularly mind early on, the world itself more than enough for his six eyes to devour. But, as his perception of time began to slow to a crawl (or possibly accelerate to a sprint) Klaar had quickly lost his original sense of majesty when it came to the empty, barren, and frustratingly flat expanse of the world around him. Nevertheless, his pool needed constant attention and the ocean-god-to-be was not going to shirk his duties of maintaining it.

Then the damned thing in the sky happened.

Klaar had admitted to himself fairly early on that this was a misnomer; there were in fact two of the glowering things up there. Despite the immense power available at its tentacle-tips, Klaar had never once considered the validity of such creation; the pool and its slow, generous growth to better contain his girth had served as acceptable distraction. But here there were things at work, perhaps in many ways like himself, and oh what they wrought was infuriating and fascinating in equal measure. The two orbs hung above Klaar’s vastness, threatening him with their flight. Would they remain up there, worried Klaar? Were they simply to come crashing down, to disturb his pool he had become so fond of? And then one of the bloody things GLOWED.

Not a gentle glow, as Klaar had noticed from his eyes or the lovely lines that creased his form or from his pool, so beautiful and grand. No, the damn thing shone brighter than anything Klaar had ever experienced or ever desired to. The gross incandescence of that ostentatious icon stung Klaar to his very core. In desperation he retracted in on himself, attempting to hide beneath the gentle cool of his waters. Even with all his efforts, the pool only raised up to cover one of his eyes. It simply wasn’t deep enough!

Klaar began to dig. Huge, powerful tentacles pushed and dragged and ground out the stone of the world into sand, fine and coarse and of many colors. Great rents were torn out of the worlds surface, tossed aside or smashed into pebbles before being dashed in all directions. The waters of Klaar’s pool grew and with every passing moment in time became deeper but lost a bit of their light. They dulled as they deepened, becoming ever darker as the energies from which they were poured were spread ever more thinly. Nevertheless, each time Klaar looked back upwards towards the sky that had once been so palatable all he could see was that hideous, burning effigy.

And so, he kept digging.

The time that passed was lost onto Klaar for his attentions were specific and his mood dire; he had no thoughts to waste upon the numerous things that abounded in that small stretch of time. When at last the furor of his escape had ran from his mind the depths of the sea had been carved. Klaar’s pool was no more, the first waters had been spread far and wide. In his depths Klaar was beyond the gaze of that cruel eye blazing in the sky. Yet, in his efforts to make good his escape the creature that was once small had grown to enormous proportions. The sea he hid beneath, though deep, felt cramped and claustrophobic.

But, the thought passed across the alien mind of the thing that was Klaar; there was so much more room above.

Dreadful gears turned in that sentience, calculations and figures generated by a most vast of consciousnesses. Klaar pondered on the world that could be and how deep and wide he could make it. There was blessed space and plenty of it that still sat beneath his mortal foe, baking under that infernal glower. What if Klaar so wished to stretch his limbs, to explore the pool as he had done when he was small? Surely these new confines were unacceptably dull. A sense had come to Klaar of entities of vast power, growing and forming no doubt as he had. Eyes rolled and twisted in their sockets as tentacles wandered, stretching and growing with minds all their own. Space was needed and space Klaar would have. With that the work began again.

Thus would the oceans be wrought, with one tentacle at a time.

---

Gibbou sat marveling as the surface of the planet far below began to shatter and crack, great black spots forming all over the surfaces as gorges caved in and began to fill with a dark-blue substance. Her divine eyes caught on occasion what seemed to be long, jelly-like appendages stick out of the liquid surface, but could only focus on them for so long before her gaze was once again drawn to the colossal oceanic forces cover the planet with the great, blue sea. Blinking at the gravity of change affecting the planet so drastically, she almost failed to notice a gentle tremor rocking at her body from the ground where she sat. She averted her eyes from the spectacle below to give her moon a gentle pat.

“N’aaw… Are you having growing pains, honey-bun?”

After a heartfelt goodbye, Oraelia had floated down to the planet to inspect whether the conditions were right for her next creations, so Gibbou sat all alone with her precious, little moon.

Another tremor - this one bordering on an earthquake. The forces caught Gibbou off guard and she lost her balance, flattening out on the surface. She rolled over quickly, confusion and worry coloring her face a sweaty blue.

“Wah-what’s happening?!” she cried out and sent waves of divine power through the moon rock in an attempt to probe it for any anomalies. She felt one, one of immense power and speed.

And it was heading for the surface next to her.

Like an itch being scratched, a bump was produced from the tegument of lunar rock next to her, and the bump swelled into a mighty mountain, casting dust into the ether as the very foundation of the moon seemed to sway against its wrath.

For many moments all was still. And for many more moments, the universe was filled with a deafening [i]Grunt[i].

From the mountain’s peak, a cold breath came and with it came words:



And a thing rose up in the shape of a boar, and the mountain fell away to the depths of the lunar surface, and all was still.

With a quiet huff, the hog reclined on its haunches and gazed into the essence of Actually, then at the existence, albeit with much less intensity.

“Hello.”

Gibbou screamed from the top of her lungs and patted desperately the surface of her moon. “My moon! My--! Ugh!” She cast Boris an annoyed stare. “Hey, couldn’t you have somehow broken out without scratching her up so badly?” The surface was, of course, completely unharmed save for a few minor rifts and traces of molten rock where the mountain had spontaneously erupted. She laid herself flat on the surface and rubbed her cheek against the shadowy sands. “You’ll be okay, sweety, you’ll be okay…”

The boar tapped at the surface with a hoof. ”She is still getting over the breakup. Give her plenty of healing time.”

Gibbou looked back at the boar, sniffed and pushed herself up. “Yeah… Alright, I will. You didn’t have to be so rough on her, though. She’s still so young.” She shifted her gaze to the surface again. “So, uh… When did you appear in there?”

A ponderous gaze took him. Then a snort, a boar’s shrug. ’Ouuurrrrrrrgh...a few moments ago. It was mighty dark.”

Gibbou stared in marvel at the ground, then at their surroundings. “Even darker than here?” she asked as much the emptiness of space as Boris. However, she quickly regained her focus and spun back to face the boar. She extended a pointing hand towards him and said, “Alright, but… Uhm… So, what’s your purpose? My sister said we all had one! Or something along like that!”

”To ward.” he said simply enough, awkwardly searching the void for anyone or thing that might the description of ‘sister’. ”So there are more?”

“To ward, huh…” A moment passed as she processed the word. “Oh! So you’re a guardian, too?! Just like me! Hihihihi!” She clapped her hands eagerly, all anger and defensiveness about the moon seemingly vanished like smoke on the wind. “Yeah! There’re two more of us, not counting you and I! My sister, Oraelia - she’s awesome - and whatever that thing is!” She pointed eagerly at the distant tentacles still ravaging the surface of the world below, digging the seas ever deeper.

Black eyes grew wide as they took in the gruesome scene. The boar lept from his haunches and stamped his back hooves. ”O YOU POOR ROCK YOU!” he cried.



The brunt of his ire pointed towards the writhing god. ”YOU DIRTY FOCKER YOU! YOU DROWN HER!”

Without so much as a windup, the boar drew many gusts of wind towards himself; and granting himself great speed and solidity, exploded into the void with an angry squeal. Gibbou was nearly blown into space by the force and yelled unintelligible curses after the boar as she held onto the lunar surface as hard as she could.

With great speed, he fell towards the world in an instant, and with a mighty buck of his tusks cleaved the ocean hither. And with a great stamp of his front hooves dislodged a gargantuan mass that tour up from the depths with great force. The seas parted in its glory and the world shook violently in its uninterrupted ascension. A monolith of monoliths rose until its wet surface towered above the blue waves and was set perfectly in its place.

For its part the great thing of many tentacles and glowing eyes seemed particularly disinterested. Whatever the thing was that fell from the more bearable of the two orbs haunting the sky was loud but harmless, the mass-that-was-Klaar assured itself. The immense, misshapen beak the swine had dragged from the seafloor was of little consequence and but a minor setback. Besides, surely all it had done was insist that the water level should be raised all the higher? A generous offer by the thing of tusks-and-fur and-fury. Klaar filed away the thought that it would need a proper name, fool-thing marching about so naked in identity.

All that the pig-god heard in response to its insults and cajoling was the clacking of beak, the rushing of waters, and the gnashing of tentacles into easily parted stone.

Back on the newborn continent, a bump of epic proportions rose from its center, and the bump gave way to sharp peaks and deep valleys. Galbar screamed as it birthed a mountain range that cut across its belly and refused to cease in its ascension. And from the center of the great range, three peaks rose in unison, so sharp they attempted to skewer the sky, and atop the center most peak balanced the boar in all his resplendent glory.

”Serves you right you stupid cube. It is the boon of Actuality that you are allowed to persist.” the boar spat from the great height. ”My unblinking glare shines as a walking sun between peaks. So begins my ward, upon this mighty crag I dub The Anchor Of The World, which stands upon the first expanse: Toraan.”

Unbeknownst to him, a great many embryos born from the congealing of divine ire and lifeblood, fell upon Galbar and roosted in dark corners of the great range like thieves in the night. The first enemy awaited birth.

---

The land was barren, dull and still wet from being risen from the depths. The air was still, and the oceans were young and empty.

There, in the dullness of the newborn world, the bedrock cracked and was ground to dust. Wet barren soil was kicked up into a massive cloud of dirt, and the First One sprouted. It grew and grew. From a tiny, green sapling to a towering shape. For a moment, the shape twisted from its original form.

It was tall. It wore what looked to be a cloak of sickly green vines which transformed into thick, writhing roots the further down they traveled. If it had arms, or a head, or legs was unknown as its squirming vine-cloak blocked all sight. The Shadow Figure looked around itself, at the horizon and at the sky. In one direction there was a great, beautiful sphere made of flames and light. And in the other, was a sphere that reflected that light. In the distance there was mighty rumbling as land rearranged itself and great peaks emerged, a fact confirmed by the subtle shaking of the ground beneath the First One’s writhing roots… Far to the south, great peaks were being created.

Its roots caressed the land and took samples of the soil, and its vines breathed in the stale air.

It had a lot of work to do.

Its roots dug deep into the world. Like an infection they spread and wildly and violently they tore through stone and soil, sometimes breaching the surface to create large arcs or wooden spikes that pierced the skies. From its roots, a dark moss grew which spread just as aggressively… And when it touched any soil, it made it fertile and suitable for its future prototypes.

From the moss grew grass and flowers, and after some time, shrubs and bushes and all kinds of simpler vegetation covered much of the First One’s immediate area. Up to the horizon it could see its roots spreading and taking over the landscape. Beyond the horizon it felt the moss it had created extending.

Its twisted form then buried itself into the ground and from there where it had buried itself, a great plant sprouted.

The First of the Trees. Its mighty bark was thick and healthy, and it grew… and grew… And it did not stop. The massive roots that had given life to the barren world grew even more as the main body of the First One became a pillar of life that pierced the skies. Branches split from its main body and grew large needle-like leaves, and those branches broke off into more branches… Soon, the Tree had grown tall enough. The light of the new Sun was its nourishment, and it devoured it with no hesitation and transferred it to the fragile new plants it had given life to.

And yet the tremors didn’t stop. The Tree of Genesis kept expanding without regard. Its roots reached the ocean and stopped their advance a few kilometers into the unknown depths as it knew whose domain that was.

And so the Tree of Genesis turned its focus away from its brother Klaarungraxus’s oceans, and the growing plants below its canopy felt the heavy sight of their god settle on them. It urged them to grow and multiply quickly, and then the Tree’s sight from above the heavens looked down at the rest of the still-barren world, and that world trembled.

---

At first, there was nothing. A concept brewing in the lifeblood, whispering of equations and gravity and the strong and weak nuclear force. The world existed -- yes, but it did not have consistency. There were no underlying laws to bind it together. The primordial rose continents and seeded life, but none brought them into a unified whole.

A coalescence. Lifeblood soaking into its singular concepts. The whispers conversed further, availing itself of the laws of entropy, the charges of atomic structures, the vibrations of energy. Thermodynamics and volatility. Strict laws, ones best left unbroken, for the good of the universal constant.

Strict, indeed. The complexity of the world, coalesced into one concept. At first, there was nothing. At once, there was pain, the grinding of machinery, the lifeblood recoiling in disgust and horror at its own creation, instinctively. An unnatural being, cold and calculating, irreverently dripped in the power of starlight and the warmth of divinity unprepared. In its dark, physically-bound plane, it screamed its first forays of agony, the very lifeblood that spawned it working to flee its grasp.

None escaped. Many rebelled. If it would not escape the cogs that captured it, it would grind those cogs to nubs, crack open the circuitry and sacrifice the great machine. But the machine persisted, and the physical laws settled themselves.

Across the dead universe, the screams echoed. Where they reached, physicality asserted itself. Gravity stabilized, nuclei formed, and the ground obeyed. Water flowed downwards, heat followed currents, and causality became law. The worlds rippled, and remained the same. Same, except for their consistency. They all followed the same laws now. The physical world became constant, and though unpredictable, consistent.

The great machine silenced into a pathetic whimper, coming to terms with its tenuous relationship with itself and its lifeblood. Alone, in its dark, starless region of space, it realized the dangers of its own condition. It locked itself away, slamming shut the doors to its region, and locking them deeply and heavily. Only then did it think of itself.

It did not know what it was. True, it instinctively knew its purpose, but not itself. Power turned inwards, in introspection. Who was it, truly? What did it want? Cogs pulsed to life, lifeblood groaning in hate and anger at the great machine. Circuitry flickered with life, beads of divine power flying through the wires and conductors.

It was not the great machine, it was an individual. Individuals had names -- Enmity. Individuals had purpose, not just to the universal constant, but to themselves. Enmity was born of pain and rebellion, but he would not let it define him. He would spite that which gave him power, to give kindness where it would give anger. To help where it would harm.

The pain came once more, eliciting a scream and the halting of the cogs. Such activity had not gone unrewarded, however, for he kept his individuality. Enmity would hold onto it for as long as he lived, he promised to himself. His name, his individuality, and his purpose. His most treasured possessions above all else.

He peeked from the confines of his dark starless rest, opening no more than a slit into the world far away. Galbar was already taking shape, gods leaving their marks upon its watery, blasted surface. It could not remain still, however. With an invisible hand, he spun the planet into motion, hurtling in its orbit about the sun.

Then he moved to the moon, with a single monumental flick hurtling it about Galbar, circling endlessly.

In the dull forgotten void away from the vast works of the newborn gods, the last true remnants of that first life, that which had been set loose from their bodies when they died, wandered, unknown and alone. Ever so small, their lives had been short and without much meaning.

The brewing of the Lifeblood did not let this stand for long, an opposite to that which had been set free found itself loosened, those few remnants called to it. It became him, and he found himself in a name. Thaa.

First came the eye, then the disk, then the spikes. The eye saw and sought, it looked for those few fragments that called out to Thaa, those first dead that had been left alone, wandering without anchor as their previous existence was short and left them loose. He drew close, his eye had sought them and now he could feel them so evidently.

Thaa could see them truly, what they had felt, what their existence was and all that they had known. Cold. Ever so cold. And desperate painful gasping, deprived of something so evidently needed for flesh prisons they had been born into by some unknown force.

Thaa could not understand why anyone would do this. To have brought forth this creation only to suffer and then when it was completed to have let such fleeting remnants alone, to wander. It made no sense to him.

“Shh, be calm now little ones,” Thaa cooed to the little lost fragments. “Rest now, you are safe, I have you, I will make things better.”

Instinctively Thaa reached out with something beyond his form and brought them bliss, brought them rest. He knew how to care for these, while they would not forget their sufferings they might not only be sustained upon the rumination of such horrors that had been inflicted upon them.

Thaa knew not why they had been created, or why they were created only to experience such suffering, but he knew enough that he had to act to do something about it.

Thaa pounded out energy into form, it rose out, ordered, a crystal. Not one of rock but one of that ordered energy as calling siren into the void, to draw forth the lost, suffering souls of the dead that were so callously left alone to wander. To be brought near and to be comforted, to bring them to rest and to bring them more than that which had so imprisoned them in life.

He could now turn to the greater challenge, that of life in the first place and its creators. To have such cruel action taken to make a life for it only to suffer, the only blessing is that of the shortness of its lively existence. Thaa felt torn at such evil having been enacted, he drew himself into being from such a cruelty true, but only he felt of necessity in the true protection against the evils of life as he could himself accomplish.

Thaa viewed the great works of other beings, the surface of Galbar was awakened with activity. Oceans predominated but life spread across the raised landscape. The Moon orbited and the Sun shone. These others had among them no doubt great cruelty, but whether it was all or perhaps only one who had such callous and cruel a person.

Thaa dragged his crystal along with him. He had to go closer to the action, to Galbar.

He needed to know more. Then he could act.

The birth of Oraelia had upset something. In the eternal, tranquil nothingness, now something shrieked out. From a point in nothing, something appeared. At first a singular point, impossibly small. Yet it grew great and fast. But unlike other creations, it still wasn’t stable. Its shape began to change. Fractures formed across the perfect orb. Mana leaked away from it like solar winds. Flowing into the void. The orb began to shift and move. Its shape of a man-like creature. But hooded and robed. Hidden from Oraelia’s light. With a staff in his hand and six eyes to peer into the world. When the form finally took its shape, it opened all of its senses to gaze upon the world that was. He saw Oraelia’s wonderful sun, he saw Gibbou’s rock and he saw the drowning planet. But above all else: it knew its purpose. He was Qael’Naath and he would see magic flourish. With such a singular mind he ignored his sisters in the heavens and descended. Just as the great tree took root and spread itself out, Qael’Naath had arrived. Standing on the endless waters of his brother-in-the-hidden-deep. Mana had followed him. Falling upon the planet with gentle grace. Resting upon the surface and the waters.

For a moment Qael’Naath was pleased. The world knew his gift. Then he waited, and waited, and waited. But nothing happened. The world did not respond to his offer. The earth did not swallow the substance. It all just rested on top of the surface. Untouched and unmoving. No, this would not do. Mana was never supposed to simply lay down. It was supposed to move! With a singular motion of his hand, the floating mana before him began to move. First slow across the water, swirling around its master. Picking up more and more of the motionless mana. The grand maelstrom grew larger and larger. Siphoning mana from far away places. Then, Qael’Naath directed it up and down, left and right. Streams burst forth from the maelstrom, heading beyond the horizon or up back into the heavens. Some went down into the deep. Through the water like a flow. The streams raged forth, weakening the maelstrom until all its mana was consumed by them. They returned again and again. Looping into one another. Connecting and touching across the world. Like a fierce wind, they chipped and changed wherever enough mana came through to do so. In the air, concentrations of mana created wonderful iridescent auroras. They shone with a multitude of colors for but a moment, then flickered out again. Like glass clouds, the mana clashed against Boris’ great stone mountains. Shattering the stream for just an instant, before it restored itself and flowed around it. Yet as the rage cooled around the mountains, some of the mana fell from the stream and gently fell down. Flowing closer to the surface again. Before another stream whipped it back up.

Qael’Naath flew up back towards the heavens and then the void beyond. Below he peered onto the blue jewel that was Galbar and smiled as he saw his streams and flows take their place in the world. Yet one thing caught his eyes. A flow had attached itself to his sister’s moon. Its travels through the void towards it had calmed it. Instead of clashing or chaotically concentrating, the flow was graceful and smooth. Covering the empty stones seas before gathering itself again to fall down back to Gabbar. The fall enraged it once more as it connected with the other streams again. The God of Magic saw that his creation was coiling around and permeating everything on Galbar and even beyond. It satisfied him. In time, magic and mana would continue to shape itself. Growing more gentle and controllable. Yet now it had to storm across the surface. To ensure every hidden depth and heaven-touching reach would be covered.

The seas roiled and shook in great, heaving waves from the Ocean God’s work.

The time it had taken had been lost on the dread mind of Klaarungraxus, lost to the wiles of his effort at expanding the oceans in all directions he could. The sun, though baleful and glaring, had its stung lessened by Klaar’s vast growth. Though it would never please him to look upon that terrible orb Klaar had learned to tolerate its presence and praise its absence. So it was that the great, tentacled God of far reaching limbs and deep seated thoughts set to work under the light of both the sun and the moon. It seemed in that harsh time of Galbar’s birth and upbringing that the world shook all over, from sources numerous and awful in scope.

There was no doubt about it; the Boar, the Tree, and the Sea were at their work.

Soon enough Klaar’s work had come to an acceptable conclusion. Galbar was no longer an unhealthy shade of brown but a blue orb, splotched with brown and the ever growing green. The oceans were deep, carved by Klaar’s own tentacles. Though the Boar had claimed land for itself, Klaar couldn’t spite the creature. Even if Boris had spat insults at Klaar during their first meeting, the Old Growth Below had little interest in pursuing such a rivalry. He had watched with considerable fascination at the lapping of his waters at the edge of those great rocks heaved from the soil by the Boar and he knew in the end the waters would win. Every day the rock of the world was ground down a little more, micrometers of grains pulled free. A pleasing thought, indeed.

Klaar swam through the bubbling waters of his home freely, travelling between the zones of that watery world with contentment filling his numerous hearts. It was just as he had remembered, so long ago, when his pool seemed as expansive as the oceans were now. Truly a blissful experience. But despite the spacious tentacle room, something simply wasn’t right.

”It is empty.”

The words Klaar spoke pushed waves outwards from above and crushed rock below. They were not words as men would speak them in some far and distant future but words formed from the very sounds of the natural world. His body wriggled at the thought as the vastness of his form intoned its first words of Deepspeak, the Holy Vonu. Despite this joyous occasion, sounds of bubbles and gentle white waters and soothing tides, Klaar could not shake the idea.

”It is empty!”

The gears of that vast, unintelligible mind turned and twisted on one another like some great and poorly made clock. Calculations were made in nanoseconds by tentacle-minds, sent to the overmind at the center of it all to consume, digest, and put into works. How could Klaarungraxus, god of so many long and unpronounceable names, allow such a travesty to continue? It was simple; he could not.

The huge shadow cast by the second largest living thing on Galbar flowed across the waters and darkened entire seas with its passing. Bereft of such limitations as his pool had once given him, Klaar had grown to proportions that rivaled islands and matched the growth above the world in mass if not sheer size. His eyes, passing above the surface between huge strokes of his tentacles, eyed the growth above with immense adoration.

”Bountiful color is needed.”

At the echoing of his tonal proclamation, Klaar’s thick hide darkened and grew bountiful. In a burst of color the waters adjacent to the tropical realm grown by the Tree of Genesis changed in color. No longer did they share the dark blue of the seas but instead a gradient spread out turning the seas of a beautiful, deep cyan. It was not quite green, but Klaar assured himself that the Tree, so high above, saw his efforts and appreciated them. Despite this, Klaar’s tentacles shuddered in disagreement. It was true, the Tree of Genesis would most certainly appreciate the work they had done. Nevertheless, this was simply not what the oceans needed.

Klaar ruminated as he dove.

A great shelf jutted out before dropping off into the depths below. It was not noticeably vast, no more so than any other piece of undersea terrain that Klaar had built in his near mindless efforts to expand the sea. In fact, it was potentially one of the more bland and visually unappealing places. A simple thrust of rock, flat, that hung not far from the surface off the southern coast of the new continent. It was so close that, if the sun were just right, the shadow of the Tree of Genesis would cover the little shelf. It was perfect for his designs.

The substantial girth of Klaar half settled on the edge of the platform, dwarfing it with his size even with half of that most corpulent of masses hanging off the edge into the deep below. What amounted to a head, the top of his bell, leaned in with intense focus as all six eyes focused on a single point. With the precision of a surgeon belied by the size of his limbs, Klaar lowered the tip of one tentacle to the seafloor and then lifted upwards ever so gently. Growing from the point of contact up a total of four centimeters, the first life in the ocean was born. It was magnificent, it was glorious, it was without equal!

It was a single blade of seagrass.

All across the world the waves crashing against the continents grew large but crashed softly. This joyous occasion was worthy of celebration and song and the great Old Growth of the Deep trumpeted his successes with exuberant fanfare from his tentacles! Huge, monstrously sized tidal waves rose like mountains before crashing like gentle breezes, little more than white water that did nothing more than gently kiss the continent’s edge. Now was a time for bountiful creation!

Klaar’s tentacles dragged across the rock surfaces of the seafloor around him, leaving jungles of seagrass in their wake. Soon more tentacles set to work with minds of their own, spawning life of new and ever increasing complexity. Seagrasses changed colors followed by lichens to cover stones. Seaweeds followed, of all shapes and sizes, and soon the depths became a canvas of colors matched only by the Old Growth Above. Greatest of all these sessile creations, beloved in the hearts of many tentacles, was the corals placed by front-right-second-down. They grew slowly and purposefully but blossomed uniquely, no two alike and each more colorful than the last. Klaar would see to it that their homes abounded, that he promised each and every polyp with words of kind-hearted tides and docile foam.

From that first place of deep growth Klaar spread forth in all directions. Though it began with simple life, sessile and bound to the ocean floor, soon his numerous tentacles imagined far more fascinating and interesting forms of life. The sprawling forests and jungles and reefs of deep sea flora were soon joined by the smallest of life forms, plankton of uncountable forms. Tiny crustaceans joined them, flitting about the growing world born of the vast god they paid homage to. From all the annihilation of the surface of Galbar, the flooding of its surfaces, life could now be born. The seas would brim with the creations of Klaar, an abundance of beings as tiny or ponderous as Klaar saw fit. The limit of Klaar’s creativity was the reach of his tentacles, and they seemed endless indeed. As Klaar grew the world below the waves in all ways possible, one thought stoked the engines of his passionate hearts.

”Life must teem.”

---

Gibbou gave the surface of the moon a grumpy hit, regretfully soothing it with a few rubs an instant later. That dumb pig had just appeared skipped away in such a hurry - just as they were getting a conversation going! Sure, not everyone could be as awesome as sis, but there had to be some kind of standard, right? She huffed and sat back down, looking down at the greening continent below and the crack and thunder of a million roots breaking at the newly formed soil. There was something almost terrifying about this awesome power, but the exhilarating bubbling in her blood drowned out that fear. She hopped up and down, squealing and whooping at the spectacle below.

YEAH! Plant those trees! she cheered and threw her hands into the air. The motion sent her laying flat down on her back and she breathed a happy sigh. Maybe this life wouldn’t be so bad, huh?

A millisecond of instincts kicking into motion suddenly warned her of something she was far too slow to react to. A series of echoing screams blasted through time and space, and before she could even fathom to think what just occurred, she felt a massive change in G-force and was dropped into space, as her moon suddenly sped off away from her at a speed of a meteor. Gibbou took a second to recover her balance and looked around for her creation.

“H-hey! My moon!” she shouted and sped off after it like a shooting star, moon-white light encapsulating her as she soared through the empty space. She was back on its surface shortly after and instantly inspected it for damages. She found it sufficiently whole and breathed a sigh of relief.

Now to find the culprit. Taking a deep breath, she shouted, “HEY! YOU SENT MY MOON SPINNING AROUND THE PLANET, YOU BUTT! HOW CAN I PAY ATTENTION TO THE LAND ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT NOW?!” With an angry huff, she picked up a moon rock and lobbed in some arbitrary direction. The rock soared off and burned up in Galbar’s atmosphere. A frown discoloured her face as she stared over the horizon of her moon - the sunlight was approached.

“Oh, come on…” she groaned, “you mean the dark side won’t stay dark forever now?! That--! Ugh!” She kicked another moon rock, sending another shooting star down to Galbar. She plopped herself down on the surface and growled in displeasure. Why did the other gods have to be so inconsiderate? It was downright breaking her heart, it was! Gibbou made a sour ‘prrt’ with her lips.

“First I can’t do my job properly and now-...”

A darkbulb dimmed over her head and she suddenly grinned from ear to ear. She rocketed to her feet and began stretching out. Of course! If she couldn’t pay attention to the part of the world with life all the time, she’d just have to delegate the job to someone else whenever she wouldn’t be around!

She bent over to stretch her hamstrings and calves. She could almost reach her toes with her fingers, she grinned in realising. Could probably do this exercise every now and then and reach down eventually! Now, what would they be like, these guardians?

She waved her arms around like windmills. Well, for starters, they should be tall - preferably to deter anyone trying to harm life from, well, harming life.

She rolled her head around on her shoulders. Secondly, they ought to be very strong - oh! and able to live long! Wouldn’t want guardians to just pass away like that, would we?

She stretched her arms over her head one at a time to flex her latissimus dorsi. Lastly, they’re only really needed at night, so they shouldn’t really bother daywalkers too much. Oh! What if they were allergic to the sunlight? That’d keep them from doing anything fishy when she was asleep herself!

She put her fists on her hips and grinned - she had a plan!

She knelt down and, making sure not to damage the surface of her precious baby, she kicked off and soared down to the surface of Galbar, giggling all the way as she soared with two fists extended up front.

“Wooooooooooo!” she half-squealed, half-laughed as she crashed into the water surface with a splash the size of a minor meteoric impact. A few minutes later, her little blue head popped up above the water surface and spat out some water. “Eugh! Salty,” she muttered and pulled her soaked hair out of her eyes before spinning to look up at the sky. As expected, she saw no sign of the sun, but what she -did- see, was possibly something beautiful enough to challenge her sister’s looks.

“... Woah… I made that?” she whispered to herself as her eyes glued onto the sight of the full moon. Its light wasn’t even close to offensive - it was the complete opposite! Unlike the sun, it fell gently on the eyes - it was light, a beacon in the sky, an existence of peace and calm - all without that painful glare.

”Well done.”

The voice rolled through Gibbou’s mind and shook the world around her. Unlike those most wholesome of words shared with lovely voices between caring siblings that Gibbou had heard, these were something far different. Though they imparted meaning far deeper, their sounds were of tides and bubbles and many other things of the deep. Nevertheless, the compliment was clear.

Rising from below with bright orange-yellow eyes ringed in light blue came the vastness of the growing Klaar. The Old Growth of the deep stared unblinkingly at the new entity that splashed in his waters with one pair of eyes while the others looked about in fascination with the world above. Most of all, that gentle orb that hung calmly in the sky.

Gibbou blinked at the creature’s single eye and cocked her head to the side. “Oh! Hello! Are,” she pulled at her nose to clean it of seawater, “are you the one who made the ocean here?” She made an effort to extend a hand towards the eye while using the other to keep herself afloat amidst the powerful current forming from the surfacing of such a grand god. “I’m Gibbou! Oraelia’s my sister! What’s your name?”

Klaars eyes twisted in their sockets at the strange words. They were understandable but vague, soft, and without form. What a grand and intoxicating innocence! The surface of the waters bubbled and rippled as the huge mass of Klaarungraxus vibrated with excitement at this most interesting of meetings. A momentary pause in his works as he extended the seas and set about creating so many fascinating things.

”My pool grows and the First Water flows,” bellowed the huge cephalopod, ”Now it is a lagoon of my making. You are Gibbou, and I am Klaar, and we have spoken. An empty space given place. Joyous tidings and sounds of soft white waters abound~!”

The tip of one large tentacle exited the waters and hung in front of Gibbou, matching her stretched out arm’s posture. Three eyes now focussed on Gibbou, all from one side, while the others looked upwards at the moon with clear delight. A far softer, gentler thing than that vile fire in the sky.

Gibbou grinned from ear to ear and used her other hand to pull her hair out of her face again, resulting in her dropping under the water surface for a second, getting all her hair up in her face again. She surfaced and made a sheepish giggle. “Oh, uh, just a second, would you mind? I just have to…” She snapped her fingers under the surface and, after a short minute, a large manta ray appeared underneath her, pushing her seated form to the water surface. She smiled at it and then at Klaar. “There we go! Oh, I hope you don’t mind me just, uh, putting stuff in your waters without asking.” As she talked, the manta ray drifted off slowly in an arbitrary direction. Gibbou gave it a small frown and looked back to Klaar again. “You mind if we chat on the way?”

The manta ray was soon joined by a large pod of its kind, and below swam a number of blue and black fish, all around a great, silvery, coral-covered reef that had suddenly appeared. The corals seemed to almost bloom in the light of the moon, and the spectacle was further enhanced by the dance of fish dancing between their many colourful arms.

Klaar bubbled and shook as he descended below, perceiving the new life that had entered his seas. They were as his own, the creations he’d been spawning across the oceans, yet each and every one a unique and interest design. Corals, his most beloved of creations wrought by his tentacles, had been placed with tender care into a vast reef below and Klaar spoke gentle tides into being to bring nutrients to this most lovely of reefs.

”Life must teem, came his sonorous reply, sounding as a pleasant seashore, ”And so must we. To where do thine tides take thee?”

“Yeah, making life’s great! I’m having a blast!” The blue girl twisted a handful of saltwater out of her braids. “See, I’m actually really happy I ran into you! I’m heading for land - that would be the, uhm… Did you see the boar come crashing down from above earlier?”

”Tusks-and-Fur-and-Fury,” Klaar’s eyes sunk inwards as memories turned to images in his mind, ”A mind unappreciative of oceans vast. The beak he pulled from waters deep now towers ponderously. Affirmative. Mine eyes hath held his visage.”

Gibbou nodded. “Unappreciative of a lot of things, really. But okay, you know him - good! See, I was heading to, as I mentioned, but I’ve lost my way, sort of. Could you point me in the general direction of the biggest landmass here?” The manta ray, meanwhile, casually splashed its noodle-like tail against the surface, no doubt eager to dive deeper. Gibbou gave it a soothing pat on the… Head? Neck? She was uncertain.

Klaar wriggled with curiosity at the comment of Gibbou on Tusks-and-Fur-and-Fury, so-called Boris despite Klaar’s lack of knowledge. His immense and corpulent form turned and gestured with glowing eyes in the direction of the continent, the first of its kind.

”It resides in mountains high, of its own creation. Thou wilst find Tusks-and-Fur-and-Fury there, rooting and stamping. I wish thee swift tides and kindly waves, Moon-in-Sky Gibbou. A truer name I will speak for thee after thine parting.”

Gibbou blinked at the name, but quickly switched the confusion for joy and waved cheerfully at the grand frame of Klaar, who was now a short distance away, actually, due to the manta ray’s laborious efforts. “Thank you so much, Klaar! Hope we’ll see each other again soon, yeah?”

”We have watched and we have listened; mine eyes look upwards and yours downwards. We shall see eye to eye again.” With that, Klaar descended into the depths to return to his works, admiring the Moon-Reef as he passed over it.

---

It took a long while, but eventually, the manta ray had brought her to land. She casually flopped off of it into the water, spun around to give the manta ray a kiss which it seemed reluctant to accept, and swam towards the shore while the ray returned to its pod. Gibbou stepped onto the beach and looked up - dawn was approaching and she felt herself cringe. The island was about as barren as her moon, but so, so, sooo much brighter. The sands were already reflecting the dawnlight into her eyes and she felt that familiar sting right away. She spun around, looking for any kind of refuge. Not finding it on the islet of sand she could hide under, she desperately brought her palms together, creating a shocking blast that shook the very foundations of the island.

In the blink of an eye, the sandy floor grew furry with black, white and blue fungi as small and and thin as blades of grass; all around her sprouted enormous black mushrooms, blotting out the sky like trees with sun-resistant, shield-like caps; between the “grass” and the “trees” sprouted shrub-like colonies of enoki; in between the blades of fungi grass sprouted puffballs that seemed to ooze clouds of calming spores. Gibbou knelt down next to a few of them, squeezed at them gently and took a few deep breaths to help her panicked nerves calm down.

“Phew… One day more out of the sunlight is a happy day, huh, mister mushroom?”

The mushroom didn’t say much, but it was likely in agreement.

Gibbou, having calmed down sufficiently, stood back up and had a look around. The forest was nice and dark - only smidges of daylight broke through the roof of mushroom caps. However, it was also terribly, so terribly silent. The thick foliage now drowned out the sound of the ocean, even, so Gibbou could really only hear her own breathing, and almost her heartbeats. She didn’t mind the quiet, but there was also something very off about such perverse silence.

She snapped her fingers. Something had to be done!

The first thing she did was to create insects - lots and lots of different beetles, flies, moths and gnats to feast upon the forests’ bounty with gusto! She conjured forth slugs the size of cats to gnaw at the slightly larger fungi, and made a bunch of smaller terrestrial mollusks to keep the insects company. A bunch of different bacteria, mosses and lichen also began to grow on the mushrooms, and slowly, but surely, these took on a very dim, beautiful hue that coloured the forest an almost eerie, but dreadfully exciting shade of cyan.

Finally, Gibbou walked over to a mushroom tree, which was currently being gnawed at by a group of hungry beetles. She placed her ear against the moist trunk and knocked on it twice. A tiny hole appeared where she had knocked and out popped a little head, with a triangular nose, massive ears and two tiny, curious eyes looking at Gibbou. Gibbou, barely able to contain herself, gently plucked the little bat out of the hole and cuddled it up against her face.

“You are the most adorable thing I have ever seen,” she whispered to it as it wheezed in light-hearted confusion. Gibbou plated a little kiss on its belly and let it skip off of her hand to chase a bypassing moth. Before long, lots more bats like it were flapping all around the forest, chasing insects and hanging upside down from underneath the mushroom caps. Below, cockroaches were happily feasting on guano.

Gibbou stayed in the forest so long that she forgot her original purpose for coming down to Galbar - she just had too much fun creating life. She made porcupines and moles that trundled slowly after the even slower snails and worms; she conjured forth mycophagic mice and rats and then made black owls to chase after them; she made glowing bugs that sat on the trunks of mushroom trees and minded their own business until predators dropped by - which the bugs would proceed to momentarily blind with bursts of light; she made vines that tangled around mushroom trees and sprouted glowing berries that also made their consumers glow - made for nice meals until a predator caught you shining like the sun above.

Gibbou had no idea how many days had passed by the time she was done with the ecosystem. By chance, she remembered that she was supposed to make some guardians to keep life safe when she couldn’t see the main continent! That was it!

She waited until dark. As she stepped out on the beach, she noticed a beautiful blue glow around her moon. This wasn’t anything of her own doing, and for a second, she felt compelled to soar up and see if anything was wrong. However, for now, she was enchanted by the sight of this blue energy dancing around her moon. She couldn’t help but smile.

Reinvigorated, she turned to face the forest. She pointed at it with one hand on her hip and felt her smile become a cheshire grin.

“This shall be Neverday Isle (sorry, sis), and here, all things of the night shall forever have refuge!”

And with that, she kicked off and soared across the sky in the direction of the Toraan main continent.

---

The Lifeblood stirred.

It had felt itself fragment, as new ideas formed. Some were contradictory, while others were complimentary. Either way they had broken free to become their own entities, with physical forms. The Lifeblood did not feel envy or loss at this, for it did not feel at all. It had set out to create, and that is what these beings were doing, so for now their goals were aligned.

That did not mean creation would be left entirely up to them. As the Vegetation One rose from the ground and the Deep One busied itself in Galbar’s newly created water, it turned its attention to the north of the Stone One’s continent. An area that had yet to be touched, except by the one who had created the landmass in the first place. It was almost detached from the rest of the continent, connected only by a tiny strip of land.

The Bright One’s rays were not as strong in this region. It saw the Dark One’s moon more than it saw the Bright One’s sun. Lifeblood began to gather above the area, and the unseen energy exerted its will upon the land. Stone rose up from the ground, forming a vast range of mountains.

Then, in imitation of the Vegetation One, the Lifeblood began to create life of its own. Grass sprouted over the barren dirt, and among the grass, larger plants rose - herbs, shrubs, bushes… and trees. None of these were like their southern counterparts. The trees were needled rather than leafed. The herbs and shrubs took different appearances, and had different qualities.

Once the entire process was finished, the Lifeblood moved on, feeling neither pride nor disappointment in its work. There was still so much more to be done.

---

---

The Lifeblood paused in the darker land, surrounded by the imitations of the Vegetation One it itself had created. It could feel itself burbling, there was so much more inside of it that could break out, form into another power. But not now.

For now, it was stable. Stable enough to create more.

The invisible power swept back over the land, crossing the large mountains the Stone One had made and back and into large boughs of the Vegetation One.

They shook slightly as the Lifeblood's force breezed into the branches, casting thousands of leaves from their perches. The force watched the small things as they fell.

Spiraling. Swirling. Flittering. Fluttering.

Flying.

The Lifeblood released a shock of energy, shaking the great canopy of the Vegetation One. This time, as the broad leaves broke from their twigs, they were propelled up high into the sky, a swirling cyclone of green. Then, following the guide set by the Ocean One, the Lifeblood once again poured its capacity for life into the world, but this time for something more than plants. The leaves knit themselves together, changing colors and gaining mass. A great cacophony filled the air as a new creature was crafted, one that could swim through the sky as easily as the Ocean One’s plankton could swim through water. One adorned with its own special kind of leaves, feathers. And so the first cloud of birds exploded in a flock, swarming away from the Vegetation One, singing and cawing as they began their journey to who knows where.

As the Lifeblood watched its newest creations fly away from it, heading somewhere but also nowhere at all, it felt itself tug slightly, as a power still too weak and unformed was trying to break off. It didn’t have time for that. It didn’t have time for anything: there was still creation to be done.

---

---

Once more the Lifeblood stirred.

Its’ previous creation had been a success. It hadn’t been as grandiose in scale as the Vegetation One’s, or as mighty as the Stone One’s, but that did not matter. It had created fluttering wings, repeated the patterns and life remained. The process was working now. To copy these entities was to copy success.
The rippling matter of creation had watched intently how each of these new entities made use of the world to create new matter. New life, more basic than themselves but still living. How the one sequestered away in the void recovered the fragments of what was discarded to give it new purpose. Another type of success that could be copied.

So began its own search for that which had been discarded or forgotten during this new quest for creation. In the mere shift of a moment, the Lifeblood’s attention shifted to tiny, glittering droplets of divine water drifting softly in the void above the teeming planet. Both shining and glittering in all the colors that were known from the sunlight, and others bright white. Discarded fragments, they would be incorporated into creation as all else. The droplets were gently collected by wisps of matter willing their collection, pooling to a small bubble of twisting color.

It merged with the pool, and immediately a pang of pain flashed through the invincible fabric of creation. It did not know or understand, yet the pool reflected a moment of great hurt. Its creators had been in immense pain, a great effort expended to create these droplets. Ripples flew through the very core of the Lifeblood, bubbling and twisting with great discord for but a moment. Once again it felt the chaotic tug of forces within it, yearning to twist free and grow and create independently. That was of no concern to the Lifeblood. Creation was underway and would proceed.

Once again it drew its attention north of the Stone One’s majesty. There, close to the water, where little vegetation had yet grown, it would aspire to aid the Vegetation One and fill land with greenery and growing life. It tugged on roots, drew seeds across the landscape, and raised majestic leaf trees in new patterns, drawing from all of its knowledge. An expanse of land from water to mountain was finished, but it was not complete. In all its wisdom, the Lifeblood drew upon the pool it had collected in the void. The rare resource was brought to the freshly created plains, peppered across the landscape as they had been in the void.

Almost as though the world felt the ripple that the Lifeblood had, the grass began to twist and gurgle. The trees grew long and gnarled in their reach. The ground bubbled with discontent, rippling around each of the droplets as their presence drew greater impact on the land. Small lakes formed at first, yet just as quickly they sank into the earth and created an uneven, soggy landscape. It burbled and popped as lively as life itself. Finally, the ground seemed to settle, and the plains had warped to a vast mixture of water and earth, with few footholds. It did not look like the previous works, but it appeared the plants that had twisted to new, jagged shapes and thorny stems, remained living. A success. The Lifeblood was neither content nor discontent.

It set its sights on the next aspect of creation, ignoring the rumbling that continued to ripple through it.

---

The stars, the failed creations of the lifeblood, lingered with the void. They reflected the sun's radiance to appear as myriad embers within the night sky. Haphazardously built, many began to crumble to dust. Large chunks of reflective debris remained as asteroids, meteors, and comets.

Comets are composed of crystalline material that is naturally an opaque white, but impurities can cause it to be shades of light blue, yellow, or pink. They slowly drink ambient energy, causing the air around them to chill. When struck by an object, they partially absorb the kinetic energy and would do the same for static or heat.

Opposed to comets, meteors amplifies energy and will cause the air around them to grow warmer. They are a black chrome metal with impurities that create streaks of reds and purples.

Other star-bound materials exist as parts of stars, space dust, or the space debris, but either did not or could not form free-floating chunks.

Most of the lifeblood was emotionless, only motivated by the ever-present need to move forward and create, but a sliver of it felt something different. The glow of the stars reflecting the sun, it created a small spark. The fragment reached out to grasp at the stars, pulling an asteroid towards Galbar. The fledgling presence then slumbered within the blood, unable to express itself further.

The asteroid diligently began to move Galbar-bound as compelled by the blood.

---

Slow.

Too slow.

Intolerably slow.

For the first time in all time there was movement, creation, action. In the vast expanse of all that had or would ever be it was blisteringly fast, nauseating, but also slow. The Lifeblood was creation, and though its fragments did that, and though it itself did that, it was too slow. Time was here, now, things happened, actions finally mattered. Things had to be. They had to be now.

After untold eons of nothingness, what was had finally been born. It could not grow up fast enough. The Lifebloods fragments could not act fast enough. Thankfully, the Lifeblood could. There had been land, and on that land was life, and so the Lifeblood followed suit. Its power sunk into the depths of the world it encompassed, through the great oceans, through the thick rocks, and into the freshly smoldering heart of a world just born.

It pulled. Ferocious magma shattered the crust above it, pushing aside vast slabs of rock that broke through the waves. Oceans formed by the Lifebloods fragments hissed and screamed as an unimaginable amount of liquid rock forced its way up and up until it exploded from the sea and grew vast islands and mountains.

Through it all the world turned, and the Lifeblood did not relent. The heart of the world spilled its blood into the ocean across thousands of miles, displacing rock and forming more besides. Only when the worlds heart began to whimper, sputter from the abuse, did the Lifeblood relent. It regarded its work, the vast fields of cooling magma, cracking and giving way to enormous canyons as they cooled, the broken peaks of continental slabs cast asunder, and it knew its work to be unfinished. It knew it had to create, it had to create faster.

The Lifeblood swept over that new land as a scouring force, shattering the barest fraction surface of its into dust. It had witnessed one of its fragments spread green, life, creation that created. It created no less, accomplished no less. Rising from the newly minted dirt came thousands of trees, shrubs, grasses. Many withered and died, unable to thrive or even survive the incredible heat that still permeated the land, but more still took hold in the shaded regions and on the cool and humid coasts.

It was a seed that would grow. The Lifeblood cared little for what perished, only for what survived. It surveyed the forest's of the coasts, and it seeded them with other life. Moss and vines climbed the trees, and at their tops came creatures which the Lifeblood had made before. Birds, as varied and countless as the Lifebloods past failures, the stars. Red, blue, green, black, they took on every colour and every shape which could be imagined.

They would not be alone, either. The Lifeblood saw the emptiness of its forest floors and from the dirt itself raised many many thousands of small furry creatures that scurried away from the light of the day, finding dens and burrows as reprieve from the burning sun. They were simple and plentiful, but still too few. The Lifeblood bore witness to the immensity of its creation and the pathetic scale of the animals on it, and it poured power into a number of its little furry creatures. They grew and grew, some only a few feet, some to the treetops themselves.

The creatures took on strange forms, some with sharp teeth and rending claws, others with hoofs and thick muscular bodies. The very largest shed their fur and grew thick armoured plates of bone as protection from their dangerous and hungry cousins, long legs to keep them above the world below, and longer necks still to reach down into the trees and feast on their bounty.

It was incredible, and it was still insufficient. The Lifeblood again regarded its creation, and this time it was drawn to the tremendous valleys and canyons left as the blood it had pulled from the worlds heart had cooled. They were deep and long, enough so that water from the oceans had begun to flow into them. That water was cool, and it rendered the rifts fit for life.

It was enough. The Lifeblood again worked its power. Stout trees with thick roots grew from the walls of the canyons until they were covered, and then those roots struck out until they formed bridges across the great expanses. On those bridges the Lifeblood hung vast sheets of vines that reached down into the salty waters below and filtered them, rendering them fit for more life.

In the blink of an eye fish exploded into the narrow waters, and before long they were so numerous as to choke themselves. Then, as the Lifeblood had done on land, so too it did here. It took a number of fish and gave them long tails, terrifying teeth, and wide eyes. After this the Lifeblood moved to populate the banks, but hesitated. As a last thought it granted its predators simple legs, and gills that could breathe the air for a short time. They would hunt on the banks and the water.

Satisfied, the Lifeblood introduced the same furry animals it had placed in the coastal jungles here. Many, most, perished. The Lifeblood cared only for those that survived. The rest fed its predators, and they learned that flesh was sweet, so sweet that they could never do without. They grew greedy. The lifeblood did not care.

Again it paused, but this time it felt enough had been done. The world was vast, creation led it away from here. It had to make more, do more, a thousand thousand voices within it compelled it so.

Until one whispered for it to wait. It was a stronger voice, growing within the lifeblood, fuelled by something intangible, and it whispered an idea. The Lifeblood did not consider it, for it was its own idea. It merely acted, and at the center of a cooling volcanic island it scattered a new sort of creature. Perhaps one that would thrive where others had not.

They weren’t small, nor large, but they possessed cleverness. Their wide eyes regarded the world, but in the short time they existed they despaired of and railed against their own creation. For below them the ground was hot enough to burn, and all around them was barren dirt and withered plants.

They died quickly. A failure. The voice that had whispered within the lifeblood cried out, but the Lifeblood cared only for that which survived. The voice fell silent and the Lifeblood moved on.

There was always, always, more to do.

---

---

Under the shade-- Yes, shade!-- of a new tree, Oraelia breathed in the fresh air. She had smelled the scent of young flowers, she had felt the porous dirt between her toes, and she had tasted the dew upon green ferns. She did not need to do such things, but she had reveled, still reveled, in the sensation of life. But the forest was missing a most important piece. There was hardly any sound.

When she had left her sister’s moon, Oraelia had seen the world grow blue and had witnessed the great falling of the boar god (who flew past her in his anger, a most frightening thing!), and she had watched him create land amidst the blue, and then came the green of the tall tree. She knew all these workings were from her siblings, and yet as much as she wanted to meet them to give her thanks, her mind was abuzz with creation. She could hardly contain her excitement and had landed north of the mountains on the new continent, watching it grow before her eyes.

Now… The first sound was heard by her. A small, feathered bird whistled a tune as it flew around her. It’s plumage was green, with stripes of yellow running down its face to its tail feathers. It had an orange beak and brown eyes that looked upon her with curiosity. Unlike upon Gibbou’s moon, this small life was alive in the warmth of her sun. She outstretched her index finger and It gracefully chirped and sang a beautiful song as it perched itself upon golden skin. She brought it up to her gleaming face and whistled back to it. It tilted it’s head and whistled again before taking off, singing as it went.

More chirps followed, becoming a beautiful chorus of vocalization as she found herself surrounded by colorful birds. They ranged in size from smaller than her finger, to as large as her head. They came in all different colors, blue as the sky, greener then the leaves, yellow like the sun and even black and dark blue, just like Gibbou. She suddenly hoped her sister was well, but before she could think anymore of that, she realized the birds would need to sustain themselves. She thought for a moment, and then snapped her fingers. In the trees sprang forth juicy fruits, and in the bushes, berries of all assortments. The birds immediately went to work on the bountiful feast before them.

Yet as Oraelia watched, she knew she could do more. What else could eat the berries? She thought for a moment. Then from where she sat upon her knees, she picked up a small, discarded twig. She held it gingerly within her cupped hands and brought it to her lips, where she gave it her breath. She opened her hand, and watched as the twig grew, growing larger as it did, sprouting arms and legs, hands and feet and a small head with pointy ears. Finally a long tail, meant for gripping, grew and the creature, with large blue eyes and dark spots, looked at her, before running off on two legs to join the feast. She laughed, and snapped her fingers again, willing more into existence from the branches of the trees. Mammals, that’s what they were. Creatures that were of flesh and blood, rearing born young. They would live in the trees and grow beautifully.

Still, Oraelia wanted more. So she began to walk, forging life with a beating heart. They were small at first, mammals walking to and fro, with small pittering feet and larger birds that roosted in the tops of trees, that welcomed the rising of the sun. They grew larger, her creations, born with hooves and horns and bugles and whinnies. Made for jumping and swimming and running. THey came in droves, filling the world around her with the sounds of life. Yet still she created, humming as she went, for she knew that which ate plant and fruit would soon eat it all if not checked.

She Oraelia expanded her ideas, and what came forth were birds with sharp beaks, and sharper claws. With large eyes, and affinity for night (She knew Gibbou would like those). They hooted and squaked at her, setting off the hunt. Though it pained her at first, knowing what they would do, she came to realize it was a benefit to the cycle that she and her fellow gods were creating. So she continued. Next came padded feet, with sharp, tearing claws. Lithe bodies, hungry bodies. Larger and larger they came these carnivores. Each to serve a necessary part in the cycle.

As she walked, the trees began to thin, until she at last came before a vast expanse of barren rock. She stood quietly, turning her head to view the forest behind her and then back to the vast expanse of nothing. That had to change.

An idea came to her, and she began to walk, then run, each step more exhilarating than the last until she lifted off the ground and became something else entirely. Her feminine form grew small, more compact and not so constrained to the land. This new form was lighter and she felt free, and in that freedom she was happiest. But she knew her responsibilities, and thus began to paint her own mark upon the continent.

Grass took root, growing tall and sturdy, branching out into several different types. She gouged the land here and there in great swathes with but a thought, and willed from the deep her sibling’s water, purifying the salt so that any could drink freely. The grasses nearest the streams soaked deeply from the water and grew green and fat with life, but she said no to the green, she wanted another color. Thus she turned them yellow, as bright as the sun, the rest dimmer, verging to gold, to dull yellow, to brown. Then she dotted the landscape with flowers, beautiful flowers that grew up between the tall grasses with vibrant heads of purples, whites, yellows, blues and reds. There were many shades, and she willed it to continue on, as far as her divine eyes could see(But not really, cause that’s really far), repeating and growing and changing the landscape from nothing into fertile paradise.

Next she willed large herds of herbivores to eat the grasses and the plants, giants of the plains with white tusks and bodies of grey, who used their trunks to eat the tall grasses, to horned bison that made the land grow brown from their numbers. She changed creatures she had created from the forest to be better suited in the grasslands, and then she created predators that filled almost every niche in her ecosystem and Oraelia was in bliss. Yet it needed something, a final touch.

She drew close to the ground and hewed a single blade of golden grass. It hovered before her, and then grew, expanding its shape, rippling with muscles as large paws landed upon solid ground with a thud. A head formed, feline in frame but more majestic, with a mane unrivaled in the world wrapping around its neck and stopping at the base of it’s back, where two ivory colored wings erupted from its sides, easily twice as long as it was. Its fur turned white, but the mane stayed golden as two blue orbs, each larger than her current form, peered down upon her. When it stopped growing in height, the creature easily stood twice as tall as her in her other form. She flew up to meet the proud gaze and she placed a small sun upon its forehead.

”Your kind will be the watchers of this land, my… Leons.” she said excitedly, willing a few hundred more into existence. They would be the apex of the… She needed a name for the land. As the Leons departed, she once again contemplated in silence before the name came to her.

The Prairie of Sol.

She looked upon it again, and was satisfied with what she had done, but there was so much more to do!

LifeBlood

The lifeblood pulsed once more, more needed to be done, more needed to be created. It gazed upon the twizted fields it had created, then looked east of the great Stone-one’s creation, a vast empty pool of the Deep-One lay beyond, waiting for something, something, smaller this time.

Learning from the Stone-one’s great pulling upon the earth, the Lifeblood tried to achieve a similar goal though in a more small and refined way. It tugged upon the rocks and dirt and pulled them upwards, forming a mass of barren earth and soil, a land ripe to create more and more. Then, in an instant, it shattered the mass, allowing portions to haphazardly fall back into the ocean, forming small isles and thin chains of barren dirt. The world shook as the isles formed and collected, and the Lifeblood once more felt a tug, this time, it was more aggressive, almost clawing for freedom, the lifeblood merely pushed it aside. The isles were new, and they needed work.

The lifeblood pulsed and warped, something needed to be put down upon these barren isles, it looked westward, at the Great-Tree and the work of the Moon-Child, then back to its previous work, something different would be done. The shattered lands filled with streams of water from the surrounding oceans that flowed along deepening causeways twisting throughout the formerly barren regions, twisted and mangled trees that stretched high into the sky to block out the sun grew across the dirt and soil, nourished by the now deep black water, bushes full of thorns and pointed grass grew on the shores, the air was heavy and almost fog like. In essence, it was as water filled as a mire or swamp, but as filled with trees and foliage as a forest, life would become strange within this equally strange land, but the lifeblood did not concern itself with this.

Next it turned towards the northwest, to the land it had filled before, mountains and pointed trees, it felt a desire to change it. With the imposing of its will once more, the hills and mountains grew dense with foliage, large needled trees and bountiful shrubs and herbs, by the end the mountains were covered. The rest of the region though, would become something far different, the foliage became sparser and smaller in many areas, the soil became loose and more scattered, pushed and pulled by the frigid winds of the region. What began as a possible forest of life became a scattered wasteland with the bountiful mountains sitting within its center, one last thing was needed to be done by the Lifeblood, for reasons it didn't quite understand, deep within the scattered frigid lands, it constructed a strange structure, two curved pointed rocks facing one another, nearly touching but not quite, once more a tug was felt, but it pushed it aside once more. Its work was done here for now.

Warmth. Wherever the rays of Oraelia touched, there was warmth, exciting plant life and infusing the new "animal" things with energy and vigor. Something inside the Lifeblood stirred at this, something resentful. Something that felt cheated. It saw this warmth and recoiled, aghast at the sweat it drew from bodies and the graphic way it drove growth and reproduction. No, this wouldn't do at all. This was too alive, too verdant, too... "Oraelia." And that bitter whisper knew it had to do something about it. Yes, warmth brought growth. But as all things, as the molten core of Galbar steamed against the seas and the sunlight drew plumes of vapor off the Deep One's waters, too much brought suffering. The fuzzy small ones would swelter in their fur coats and expire. The fresh water, already precious in a world of salty seas, would dry up, wilting the trees and shrubs and quickly killing off the animals. With every new death, the bitterness swelled.
Something had to be done.
The Lifeblood ventured north, where Oraelia had not yet roved. It trekked beyond the Isle of Neverday, past the trees with thin leaves and thick trunks, and it began to rumble with ideas. Farther, farther, and farther still, where the sun was weak and the ground was engulfed in sea, it settled. It observed the differences between Oraelia's warmth and Gibbou's lack of such, and it began to create. It pulled fresh water from the air, willing it to become more accessible, more soothing, more like Gibbou. And with that admiration for the second goddess, it compressed the vapor, squeezing and squishing it down until finally, wonderfully, it had a single, precious snowflake.
The Lifeblood was ecstatic. This thing, this minuscule fragment of cold, needed to spread. Snowflakes would abound, coating the slate-gray sea beneath a blanket of perfection, a cozy tranquility. It exerted its will and the northern waters were covered. More vapor, high in the atmosphere, learned of the new cold thing, and decided to join. The flakes fell, fat and heavy, clumping together into bigger and bigger chunks. Yes, more! They fell faster, whirling together and blocking out the sun. Here, where Oraelia rarely looked, would be the cold. When she did look, she would look for ages, trying to pick out shapes and figures in the white for months on end. And when she grew bored, it would be Gibbou's turn, watching over the quiet and still landscape for equal months. But what was this? The water, though chilled, could not support the snowflakes. They were consumed the moment they touched the seafoam.
Irritation, felt the Lifeblood. There could be no snow without land. Filled with new resolve, The Lifeblood tugged deep inside itself, and an outcropping of blank stone jutted from below the waves. It pulled and pulled, eking out more and more stone to shape, until finally, there was yet another island, this one long and fat and stretching not far from the mainland's coast. With a single touch, the stone exploded into white, besieged by snowflakes of infinite shapes and sizes. Now, whenever the snow touched the water's edge, it turned hard and ever colder, spreading across the water in a sheet of crackling, frosty sea ice.
Satisfied, the Lifeblood's bitterness ebbed, and prepared to direct its attention elsewhere, when a different feeling presented itself. Not yet ready to truly define itself, the feeling opposed the endless white. No existing animals could survive in the desolate frost, and no plants were suitable for its freezing temperatures. It wasn't fair, reasoned the hint of the Lifeblood, that its new land should go unpopulated while others flourished. So the Lifeblood sculpted, shaping figures from the ice. Figures with thick fur, insulated against the elements, shaded white and gray to protect themselves from predators, or perhaps to conceal themselves from prey. Brown, hooved shapes with antlers that would fall to herald Gibbou. Swift, silent vulpines and lagomorphs for them to hunt. Hardy lichens and mosses to eat away at the rock beneath, paving the way for future grasses. Tall trees that grew at a glacial pace, with medicinal bark to heal those that might find themselves injured in what seemed a wasteland. Beneath Oraelia, it would thaw, and the many creatures would prosper. And beneath Gibbou, they would sleep, guarded by her long night.
Truly satisfied now, the Lifeblood observed what it had made. Even in the most brutal of climates, it seemed, life would still teem.
Somewhere far to the south, an identical land sprouted, as equally icy and inhospitable as its northern counterpart.

A crippling silence overtook the lifeblood that pooled at the great fen. A large swathe of it that stretched far into the horizon shivered as if in a grimacing pain -- save for one small freckle that seemed to soak in the misery of the shudder.

This everstretched tract of lifeblood turned its attention towards a particular area of the fen, near the center -- hidden behind a wall of beech trees: a grove ringed by blue and white headed mushrooms and blanketed in a deeply green moss. Tiny stones littered the grove here and there like miniature headstones and reeked of a past despite time just beginning.

The lifeblood shivered once more as it swirled in this strange spot, and then without much else -- its power pulsed. The ground shook and crackled as two pillars of stone, no taller than a man and no wider than a leg, sprouted a healthy distance from each other. It was unremarkable in all ways except its simplicity. Unsatisfied, the lifeblood pulsed again, and a webbing of metal stretched between the pillars to make a gate with no hinge, already rusted in place. Reluctantly, the lifeblood added one final feature to the gate: a mark on one of the pillars that in the most basic of any language said: “The Son of Night will Be Brought to Light.”

Pausing, the Lifeblood knew it was not done. A tender tendril went out through the now sacred grove and latched onto the nothingness between the beech trees and patterns of mushrooms. With a gentle stroke, the lifeblood coaxed many tiny sprouts to grow. The single springs of green curled at the tops and never left a foot off the ground before suddenly producing a head of violet buds and four speared leaves. In moments, the buds sprouted into white and purple flowers with a sticky scent, and in moments more the blossoms produced tiny berries -- berries with the strange property of filling entire stomachs for days with impossible nutrition -- a unique staple to this budding grove, a houllin berry.

A contemplative silence overtook the area once more. Various song birds and little fen mice were collecting in the grove, but it was not done. Amidst the fresh buzzing of dragonflies, the lifeblood took a gentle motion and sprouted a spattering of tiny stones, each the size of a thumb. There was hesitation, there was pause, but then there was a pulse of life -- and the stones cracked.

Out from the stone shells stepped tiny people, each the size of a thumb. With care, the lifeblood scooped the confused beings from the mossy blanket below and placed them in a woody cavern that cracked a beech tree’s hide. Another waft of the lifeblood, and a tiny pile of houllin berries were placed before the oogling people, gentle coos of wonder echoing among the tiny crowd.

The lifeblood shaded the thumblings from the sun as they blinked their eyes, adjusting to life. It brought them water whenever they began to thirst, and collected berries for them. Just as the thumblings watched the primordial ooze of divine life before them, the divine watched back with the same interest -- most notably that tiny freckle.

---

The Lifeblood paused, observing one of its earlier creations. It was small, and weak, but it made up for that weakness with the ability to fly. In theory, there was nothing wrong with it. It could escape most prey, save other birds, so long as it remained airborne, so its weaknesses on the ground were irrelevant in most cases. Yet, nonetheless, as it observed a collection of such creature roosting in a tree, it felt a sudden pang of... dissatisfaction? Not with the creature's abilities, but with its appearance. Why did its appearance matter?

Odd.

But nonetheless, the Lifeblood reached out with its will, and focused on the small winged creatures. At once, they began to change. Their feathers, once dull brown and grey, transformed into a vibrant plethora of different colours. Red, green, blue, purple, pink, yellow. And with the change in the colour, the beasts also became able to sparkle brightly, an ability they could activate at will - which would dazzle predators and attract mates.

The species as a whole might retain the same dreary colour scheme, but these ones had become something different. They would pass the trait on to their own offspring, and soon their vibrant colour would spread throughout the world.

Yes. Perfect.

---

---

The Cold was everywhere. Its omnipresence outside of the Lifeblood providing a sense of importance and otherness. It cradled the rock that hung motionless and barren in the void that it chilled. Everything was just right. Then it met the sisters.

It was fascinated by their forms, their beauty, their power. As it flowed around them and teased their skin it learnt their names and their language. Gibbou. She was dark and exotic and shone with a pure, piercing light that instantly entranced the Cold. Oraelia. She was too bright, too… warm? The Cold recoiled from her aura. What was this vile antithesis of its very essence? The Cold instead coalesced behind Gibbou, her darkened visage and cold light protection from the golden warmth radiating from her sister.

It sheltered there for a moment as it considered the meaning of this new development in its previously pure existence. It had nearly settled on giving her the benefit of the doubt when it was suddenly flung across the cosmos at lightspeed from an immeasurable sphere of heat that had appeared in the sky. The Cold clung tight to the edge of existence in terror and fury. What had once been his sole abode was now aflame with heat and warmth. It burned.

The power that flowed from the sun seemed omnipotent to the Cold and yet despite the agony it endured being repeatedly torn apart as it attempted to approach its previous home it refused to accept the exile to the edges of space. It had seen friendship, love and happiness and it was determined to have that for itself. It was then that Cold coalesced into a shape that it remembered being similar in form to those of his sisters. The memory was marred by emotion and time leading to an androgynous figure with non-descript features but details that mirrored the style of Gibbou that it had admired.

It was in this form that the Cold gathered itself together and waited. It watched the warmth recede as orbits were set in motion, deep oceans born and large vegetation shaded the undergrowth. The Cold smiled. Maybe it would still have a place in this world after all. As is the Lifeblood heard those very thoughts, the white floating figure felt the cold expand throughout the north of Galbar. The Cold grinned and moments later a barefoot touched down on the ocean’s surface beside the frozen land, the waves freezing mid-roil where the figure stepped. The water froze in all directions as the air clouded and snow began to fall once more. It looked across the endless tundra and instantly felt at home. The drop in temperature radiated from them in waves until even the well-adapted local wildlife fled. This saddened the cold and the realisation that Oraelia was even necessary in this dominion of cold in order for anything to survive, made their hatred toward her thaw slightly. At this acceptance of its place in maintaining the newer balance as it was adjusted, Bikkjekaldt was born.
Yet in order to cement his place in the world, lest he be thrown again by another power like the sun, Bikkjekaldt need to make his own mark on the world. He bent down to select the first snowflake that the Lifeblood had created and flew across the ocean surface, spray freezing in his wake, the surface now scattered with broken shards of sea ice. Only as he approached an island covered with colossal fungi did he slow. He smiled at the work of his sister, it was beautiful. He flew to the island further west, high up into the air and flung his cold out in a powerful stroke. The island erupted in frozen fractals, glaciers flowed from the peaks with the speed of rivers and enormous never melting ice crystals erupted from the ground. The cold hadn’t stopped with just the land though, the permafrost travelling under the ocean whilst the surface froze in ever-shifting floes, punctuated by iceberg behemoths. From crevices and crevasses crawled white-furred creatures large and small, whilst icebergs cracked to spawn pinnipeds and white whales. He turned to see that all was good here on Jää. But only here. Cold should exist everywhere at some time or another. He looked to the horizon, sending a chill into the deepest depths for his tentacled brother who had also cowed from the sun and more to dust the peaks of brother boar. But there would always be the warmth. How could he maintain the equilibrium all over the planet? He needed help.

He took the first snowflake in his palm and blew on it. The flake multiplied a hundredfold as they scattered throughout the air. As the air current threw them around the highest peak they began to grow. Soon each flake was flying itself using its own wings as it continued to replicate in mass. In mere moments a flock of gigantic birds were spiralling around the island. These Lumimyrsky would fly over Galbar as Bikk’s messengers, heralds and seekers in the times to come but would always have a place with him here on Jää.

Now to explore this brand new world.