---

Enmity searched the world through his hole torn through reality, looking for that which needed his touch. Eventually, his eyes settled upon the mountain range upon Toraan. With a careful hand, projected far across the universe to reach Galbar, he began to bury the basic elements deep within. Iron, gold, sulfurs -- never in deep abundance, but rich nonetheless.

A vein of gold there, a thicket of carbon thataways. Random in appearance, though following some greater design known only to Enmity. He was immensely careful, replacing the surface he scooped immaculately. Up and down the mountain range he threaded, with a practiced eye.

Another scoop, another ore deposit. Enmity was thick on the iron and carbon, careful to thread only small amounts of gold and other rare metals. A layering of sulfur scattered about one peak, and tin on another. Uranium scattered deep in here and there. Sedimentary deposits of copper and pockets of alluvial gold smattered.

Another mountain received more lead than usual, another more silver. Another yet tungsten and small pockets of nickel. A few deposits of chromite here, and charged magnetite iron there. He scooped manganese across one section of the range, and zinc elsewhere.

From the corner of his sight upon Galbar, he spotted something. A streak of divine power, brightness. But Enmity was a careful god, and he would not leave the surface of the mountain disrupted, so he did not pursue -- though his presence was not hidden either, the thick haze of divine power moving earth that it was.

The streak stopped for a moment, radiating life as it hovered not far from the mountains of the boar. Tentatively it reached out to Enmity and felt his presence. Enmity stopped his task suddenly, swiveling his peekhole to Galbar to face the new presence. With a wheezed, raspy voice, he spoke in a volume loud to mortal life, but acceptable to divine ears, “Hello?”

A feminine voice sprang back immediately, "Oh hello! I don't think we've met before! I'm Oraelia, who are you?" she asked with childlike curiosity. Enmity responded with a pained wheeze, “I am Enmity. It is a pleasure to meet another god, Oraelia.”

She approached as a small glowing ball of green and yellow, which shimmered. "Enmity…" she said his name slowly before stopping in front of his slit through reality. "You sound in pain." she eventually said.

Another rasping wheeze, “Yes. It is of no concern -- I have made myself used to it.”

"A pained existence is no way to live, brother." Oraelia said softly. "Can I help you?"

Enmity responded with a curt, “No,” before following up, “It would be too dangerous. For both of us.”

"How can you be so sure, so new to this world?" she questioned with a sad tone in her voice.

A resigned wheeze, “My lifeblood considers me anathema. It would evacuate to you if you got near, and it would not so easily cooperate. It is too dangerous.”

"Anathema?" she asked, before asking, "What do you mean? What is it you reside over, brother?" she asked curiously.

“I am the god of the physical realm; gravity, friction, atomics. I am also a machine,” a pause, a breath caught in the throat, “Divinity is unkind. Lifeblood erupts from my cold shell, and I am ill-equipped for the warmth.”

"How can this be?" she asked unsure. "My sun… It was to warm all and give them life, even my siblings." she said, sounding defeated.

Another wheeze, taking on a reconciliatory tone, “I am far from your sun. I sit suspended in the inky black where no starlight has yet reached. The lifeblood is irreverent. I am cold, and the lifeblood boils to the touch. I stress and crack under its radiant heat.”

"What… What are you, Enmity?" she asked suddenly.

“I was the great machine. Only concern for the universal constant. But now I am Enmity, I am individual, like you,” came the rasp.

"What is this thing you call machine?" her voice hungry for answers.

A sputtering of gears briefly halting, a metallic groan as they were forced into motion, “I am of metal and parts, a million billion cogs spinning endlessly, a hundred thousand flat planes of silicon endlessly shuffling beads of divine power back and forth.”

The small orb that was Oraelia floated backwards slightly. "But… How do you… What is… How does your heart beat?" she said, uncertainty in her voice.

A struggled wheeze, “My heart is not one of flesh. It is spread throughout me, through my boards and cogs. It halts and falters, the lifeblood packs into it and jams it still, but it is me and I refuse to die.”

She shifted forward again. "You are not alive as the birds and the mammals, without flesh and sinew, made of this metal and cog but you… You do not want to die?" she almost whispered.

“Death, for a god -- not necessarily the death of the physical form, but the cessation,” a wheeze, a pause to think, “of consciousness. Self-identity and power. My form could labor endlessly without divine spark or thought, but Enmity, me, would be dead.”

The small orb said nothing for a while, ruminating in thought. Then at last she spoke, "I… See." she said. "It was nice… Nice to meet you Enmity. I wish you the best." she said, slowly withdrawing.

The slit in reality watched her withdraw, the rasping wheeze bidding farewell, “I treasured this talk. Be well, Oraelia. I will be listening, should you ever need help.”

She paused and said, "I can say the same." before she disappeared in a blink.

Enmity turned his gaze back to the mountains, lingering for a moment on the conversation before his projection of divine power returned to the land, and with a mighty heave, scooped it up so that he may deposit his ores.

Galbar was still warm. Though it had peeked northward, the Lifeblood still had not found anywhere that truly evaded Oraelia's light. Every day, the moon would rise, and there would be a brief respite. But every day, the moon would set, and back came the heat. It never ended. What of the poor, wriggling things? What of the creatures that did not seek the sun, but burned in it? Rocky overhangs and shady trees were not good enough, and the Deep One, though suitably dark, could not support the little ones that gasped and panicked in his waters. The Lifeblood needed something else. It turned its attention toward the Boar.
The Boar, rumbled the Lifeblood, had promise, with its stone and mountains. What if, it considered, it took inspiration from Klaar, and combined the methods of the two to create something deeper. Something with no sunlight at all.
The Lifeblood descended, carving away into Galbar's surface as Klaar had widened his seas. It hacked and sliced, worming into the colder and colder ground. Soon, puffs of super-heated gas greeted it. Smoke belched from the boiling core below and soupy vapors filled the cavernous veins the Lifeblood left in the earth. It felt the attention of the miniature organisms peeping in, and sought to please them. Mirroring Klaar's eternal weathering of the land, the Lifeblood dug. Its caves spread beneath Galbar in all directions, wild and unplottable, delving miles deep or lurking just beneath the surface. Sometimes the stone walls opened into vast expanses, where water dripped from above and magnificent crystals sparkled. Sometimes, the caves narrowed and narrowed. They could be hot enough to set the stone melting, or cold enough to freeze the water percolated throughout. It was chaotic and beautiful. And when the small beings saw it, they embraced it, finally having somewhere safe where the sun could not tear at their eyes and swift predators could not run them down. Fellow carvers of the rock and dirt multiplied, and Galbar writhed, full of worms and moles and other beasts of the dark.
All was perfect.

---

The Lifeblood stirred No, the Lifeblood recoiled. So much creative force, so much good, a natural ebb back was due.

Balance needed to be preserved in some form. These minds that had sprung from the Lifeblood were pure and newborn with only kind, constructive thoughts in mind. This imbalance lead to an amount up of negative energy building up and coalescing within the Lifeblood that was reaching a point where it would only be natural if this energy was expended; both to be able to mend the imbalance and preserve the future purity of the Lifeblood.

It took place in the midst of the still barren rock on the small island west of the main landmass. It started small, but gradually the Lifeblood dug away and deeper into the center of this island. The Lifeblood ripped deeper and deeper into the crust, removing the stone that it had previously brought into existence. A faint glow began to come from the hole, unlike the glow that came from the Bright One, this glow was sinister in its origin. At least, it felt sinister. Its sinister presence expanded further up, creeping up the hole and reaching the opening. At this point the Lifeblood had dug a hole very deep within the planet, to the point where the planet's own internal heat seeped into the hole, making it unbearably hot. On the surface, the island was now not much more than a fairly thin ring of land around the Hell Hole, and was enshrined in a light that came from deep below.

The Lifeblood started to retract, but it's correction was not completely finished. It also bestowed upon the island the living interpretations of the sinister ground light. From the Hell Hole the Lifeblood spawned branching, red plants that resembled dry coral reefs above the ground, the Hellicas. These plants were the largest plants of this ecosystem, covering all of the smaller plants known collectively as Hellgrass. Various rock-magmas critters scuttled around this new island, feeding on both the Hellgrass and each other.

Lastly, in a display of it's might, as well as to finish off the negative energy, the Lifeblood summoned forth a behemoth to inhabit this hole. The creature clawed its way into existence. It had twenty-four long, sturdy, flexible legs and a massive, deep maroon body with a thick armored hide. It had a head coming from the front, or what one would consider the front since the rest of the body was largely radial in symmetry; the head rested atop a thick neck and wore hundreds of eyes on each side of its strangely mammalian head. Thousands of huge, sharp teeth rested in its drooling mouth and a highly sensitive nose fit in just above. The entire colossal creature scuttled into the Hell Hole, which became its home. Just the sight of the creature would be enough to make any weak-minded mortal go mad with fear with the mere comparison between this monstrous horror and themselves. The creature needs little to no external food as it manifests most of its energy from the heat from the ground itself; however it will easily eat any living creature whenever it feels the appetite. This creature is henceforth known as the Gr'Tolkath, or the Guardian to the Gate of Hell, as mortals will call it.

The Lifeblood, satisfied in its balancing, retracts back into the recesses.

---

---

The urge to create, to continue shaping the world, did not cease, and never would it. However, sometimes eagerness led to exaggerations, and at the moment, the lifeblood, filled with potential gods, was not as gentle as it was before the sun and the moon had filled the sky. It was an ironic state really, but it also made sense, knowing that the act of creation led to the possibility of more things being created.

It followed the lands of Toraan and moved westward, across the countless islands, its focus observing how the land broke into the sea and the sea broke into the land. It was a pleasant thing to observe, expanses of sea and then new unknown lands. However, as it chased the sunset, it was noticeable that all of sudden the lands simply disappeared, there was nothing but more sea. It waited for some time, expecting new lands to appear, but there was nothing. That nothingness became impatience and that impatience turned to eagerness

The land would be created, the lifeblood decided, but it did not have the gentle touch of a god, neither did it have the strong fury of a god. It was a neutral entity, so when it wished for land, large blocks of rock rose as far as the eye could see. It was an instantaneous act, there was no tsunami or anything.

That wouldn't do. The lifeblood called for strong winds and endless rain, forcing the humidity to seep into the rocks, bending down the great spines of rock and making them melt into the lands bellow, filling the region.

Once it was done, a new continent had been born. The rocks turned into three great mountain chains forming an immense valley. The southern one had been the target of most of the Lifeblood's shaping force, it was the smallest, but also the most jagged, beyond it, southward, the earth had been shaped into wind-carved mesas. To the east, another mountain chain, gentle but formidable, separating the valley from the sea. Finally, to the west, the tallest of the continent's mountain chains, the one least touched by the lifeblood, still retaining its jagged, cubelike shapes.

The breeze from the islands to the east came soon after, filling the continent with life. The mountains acted as dams to this fresh, humid wind. The east coast and the southern mesas would have regular rains, but the central valley region, it was almost drowned in that humidity, rainforests, and swamps would be natural to this region, and, as the many lakes and rivers sought the ocean, a great river would be formed.

Yet, for some lands to receive so much, others had to be deprived of it, beyond the western mountain, in the last shores before the sunset, was a great, dry wasteland, and endless sea of barren rock where life would always struggle.

At first there was an ant. Just one. None could say where it had come from, but ants do have a tendency to get anywhere and everywhere if you let them. And so because no one had decided to ant proof existence yet here it was. This particular ant found itself in a sea of green in the shade of the greatest tree in existence.

Now ants are simple things, and are not known for their great wisdom or intelligence, but this ant did know two things. First, that it was utterly alone and second, that this should not be the case.

And so it wasn't.

The lifeblood bubbled, simmered and then boiled across the realm of nature, forming first into more ants and then into all other insects in the blink of an eye. Bees, bettles, butterflies and more burst into existence and then tumbled to the ground as the roiling sea of lifeblood washed out from the ant and over the land that the Tree of Genesis had blessed. Insect kind shared a singular brief beautiful glorious moment of unity as they marveled at their suden miraculous genesis before they immediately turned on one-another and began competing for resources in a deadly war for dominance and survival.

Only a few retained a fraction of the first unity. Greatest among them were the ants, who together built their home at the base of the greatest tree, digging tunnels around its roots where they tended to gardens of mushrooms, raised their young and sent out foraging parties. Out in the wilds they found the termites who gnawed at the flesh of lesser trees. The ants were abhorred by this sacreligious destruction of the genesis tree’s lesser kin and so the first war began.

As below, so to did this story play out above as bee found the wasps and in so doing began the war of a thousand stings. Soon these conflicts spilled over into one-another and the land and skies around the Tree of Genesis were filled with death as millions of slaughtered each other in battle after battle, much to the first ant’s dismay. All it had wanted was to not be alone. It had not wanted this, this death, this destruction, this misery and torment such as bugs could know such things. Aging and decrepit it raced to the center of a battle where the four sides were all locked in eternal struggle beneath the great tree and cried out for peace. Had they not all once been one, it cried, had they not all once had unity. Where they are not the last vestiges of civilised bugs. Could they not all work together to build their homes and shelters instead of tearing each other apart!

Miraculously, they did. For just long enough to tare the first ant to bits instead. Truly, it seemed , nothing would bring the bugs together once more and yet, from that death, from the death of the first ant, nay, the first bug, something bloomed in defiance of all that had been wrought.

They met in secret for the first time on that very day. The first council of bugs made of those who had seen, or heard, of the first ant’s death and saw not the death of a fool, but the martyrdom of a hero! Ants wasps, bees and termites. Workers, soldiers, princes and princesses. All came in defiance of their kind to build something in the first ant’s name.

But what they asked, could they do together to honor their memory.

They could build a home in secret where all could live in harmony! And yet all new that they would never be able to hide forever.

They could fight in the name of all bug kind. And yet then they would only be another side in the war. Small, hated, and soon crushed.

What then could be done? All they could do was remember, and, perhaps, spread the word. Spread the first ant’s vision so that others may know of it and join the bugs of unity.

Soon carvings began to appear across the realm, then small statues of splinter and grass. Then, as their numbers grew they too grew bolder, carving greater works until their number grew so great and their members so proud that they swarmed together one day on the site of the first bugs death, forging a monument that towered over all. A titan of stone, an embellished image of the martyr with the face of an ant, great horns like the jaws of a termite, the eyes of a wasp and the wings of a bee.

Look, the bugs of unity cried, look upon the statue of a hero and witness what their vision can achieve! Come to us, they cried as every one of their kind gathered around the statue. Come they did by the thousands and yet even as their ranks swelled the angry and hateful bugs drew closer, come to tare down the first bug once more.

They died there, fighting side by side. Ant beside termite, bee beside wasp. They died in droves, sure that they were right, sure that the first bug fought with them and that sure they would survive, sure that this time it would be different, and yet die they did, til the final bug drew its last breath, the name of its hero on its manables as it fell.

And when that last bug fell the armies that had slain them, the armies of ant, wasp, bee and termite, continued to fight one-another, trampling the corpses of the bugs of unity as their endless war raged on over the stone body of the one who had tried to unite tuem.

And then the statue opened its eyes. With eyes full of contempt it gazed down upon the murderous bugs and said, ”If division is all you desire, then division is all you shall have”

With a wave of one of its colossal hand ants ceased being simply ants. They become fire ants, leaf cutter ants, black ants, brown ants and so many other kinds of ants. So to where the termites, wasps and bees sundered, becoming a thousand species of insect where but a moment ago they had been four. The bugs recoiled as friends suddenly became foreign creatures worthy of hat. Then with a wave of his other hand the giant bug sent the insects to the for winds, scattering them across the world so that their wars many never ravage the Tree of Genisis’s lands to such a scale ever again.

The first bug, joined now in perfect unity with a billion faithful souls, looked out upon what remained of the battlefields of and ruins of now abandoned super hives. It sharply raised one of its massive forearms skywards in a fist pump, causing stone cubes to rise from the earth, and then thrust its final unused arm forwards, shattering stone and revealing a field of statues commemorating the fallen who had given their lives in the name of peace and unity.

Finally, it was done. The great bug rested its arms by its side and looked up at the Tree of Genesis that had towered above all this time. Now they, like it, were a god.

”We… I am Artifex,” the construct told the tree, before giving the colossus of nature a polite bow, ”You have borne witness to my fist folly, but know that this time, this time things will be different.”

Chaos beyond description ruled the Lifeblood. It was torn in a thousand directions as whispered voices became clamoring shouts, and it heaved and shuddered under the weight of contradictory urges. Just as it corrected the positivity that was consuming it with the terrible island it had created, now other solidifying voices shouted out against the action. This was an affront to what was right! The peoples of this world, when they would come about, would suffer terribly if this were to continue! They needed plenty, lest they be slaves to hunger and famine. Let them have a world free of want and pain.

The lifeblood looked on Toraan's vast wooded plains and set about fulfilling its sudden empathetic impulse. The vast expanse of forest south of the Anchor of the World was fine for beasts of the woods, but it would be harsh living for those who would come. With a thought, the lifeblood's desire became manifest as it willed the landscape before it to change. The land was molded flat of hills and rocks, and cleared of trees and shrubbery. In their place, the Lifeblood spread new kinds of plants, inspired by those that existed in those forests and plains in had already made: Wheat and maize, tomatoes and cucumbers, berries large and ripe.

The lands bordering the south of the Anchor which once had been covered by the woods of the Genesis Tree were now flat plains of produce that could one day be cultivated by those with the knowledge to do so. The Lifeblood had cleaved channels from the Anchor, creating countless steams that merged into countless rivers that flowed through these lands, irrigating them and permitting this bounty of life. Nor were the changes limited to the surface: the soil below was changed in composition, made fertile beyond compare in the world.

The Lifeblood retreated from this region, satisfied that it had created an Eden where civilizations might flourish without fear or pain. A name for it materialized, unsought but fitting: The Gardens. It shuddered then, as other voices - its own voices - rose up in outrage. Where is the balance, some demanded; those without the strength to live should not be coddled, others insisted. The lifeblood trembled under its own contradiction before stabilization itself. One urge at a time, one action before its reaction. It moved on, satisfied but troubled.

---

The Lifeblood rested in the mountains of the Stone One. All around it the embryos the Boar had released as it had plummeted from the Moon One's home were writhing and growing in the dirt. This life, powerful life, was wholly foreighn to it. Despite the fact that the Stone One had burst from the Lifeblood, its moving creations had a certain air to them that the Lifeblood’s lacked. As it watched the growing and changing embryos, a familiar sight came flapping on the winds, one of its own creations.

A single bird, plumage as red as magma, had found its way deep into the Stone One’s Mountains. It chirped a few times and went to work searching for food. The Lifeblood sent it’s force into the stone ground, causing new plants to spring up and grow, fat roots topped with purple flowers that cracked the stone as they grew and hardy ferns that clasped tightly to the sheer faces of the mountains. The bird called out in pleasure and flapped towards the nearest root and began pecking at it for food.

The Lifeblood watched its creation thrive for just a few moments, but in an instant, something changed. There was a terrified squawk and a flurry of gnashing teeth and flying feathers. Some beast spawned from the Boar’s descent had lept out in an instant and devoured the red bird, destroying it and moving on in an instant.

Why this stood out to the Lifeblood as a problem, it did not know. This was simply another event in a series of events, but some twinge deep inside it urged it to do something.

The Lifeblood took a boulder from the mountain side and began carving it. It shaped a form similar to the creation that had just been destroyed but far stronger. And larger. This new bird stood firmly on the ground, two thick, powerful legs holding its proud body high. The legs ended in large, crushing talons, strong enough to toss boulders aside and carry the beast at incredible speeds. Its beak, unlike its cousins, was broad and made for crushing and digging.

The new great beast stood proud and strong, ready to fight and survive anything the Mountains of the Stone One could throw at it. Being able to climb any cliff and overturn any rock to find the nutritious roots and small critters that would feed it. But, as equipt as it was, this new creature had lost the essence that inspired it. It was a creature of stone, not of leaves.

The Lifeblood looked at this new almost-bird and decided it could give it more. From the stone it carved more of these creatures, binding them together in their own kind of flock, one of the ground. It gave to them a certain intelligence, not sapience nor true wisdom, but the kind of brain that could truly be social and form bonds. Lastly, it painted the crests of these birds a vibrant red in honor of the single being that spurred their creation.

With a caw, the first of the great Stone Birds lead its flock away from the Lifeblood, the beat of their talons against the ground resounding and sending the previous rulers of the mountainside scrambling away.

The Lifeblood no longer felt that twinge inside itself and looked upon the sight with nothing but objectivity and took back to the skies. The world was still being filled.

The lifeblood marched on, creating, creating, creating. It had inner turmoil, but still, it must create.

It rolled over a large landmass, still left barren. As it did, the terrain shifted into grassy hills roamed by animals. It willed it, and so it is.

However, something rung out, and the star-loving presence awoke within the blood. Its asteroid had not arrived, but it had realized it had other work it needed to achieve. It had found a reef, and realized that it wanted one as well. There was some strange affinity with this reef. It plucked a small piece of it and carried it to the northeast, above Toraan.

It planted it and willed it to grow. Except it did not. It died. The presence paused but was undeterred. It compelled comet dust to appear before and infused into the earth below it. Lacking an understanding of how it did so, it still did. From the infused ground, it weaved crystalline structures into a facsimile of a reef. It had also noticed clams and appreciated the jewels which they formed. He relocated the shelled creatures and altered them. He also attracted some of the nearby fish and further adapted them to the environment.

The presence was satisfied that it had created. But it peered back into the void of space. The water, land, and sky had life, but the stars did not. He noticed a creature, a whale. It was perfect. He compelled it to go to space, but this time it learned. As it began to leave the ocean, it changed. Its skin became a deep, night blue. Majestic fins grew from its back, flippers, and tail. Others followed, the first celestial whale would not be alone.

The presence wished to feel the stars with more life but found itself growing sleepier. It rushed over the newly formed grasslands. It remembered another animal it had an affinity for, the sheep. It asked a herd of sheep to come to and fill the stars, but it once again rested before its will could fully manifest.

The sheep wool grew thicker and became light shades of blue, yellow, red, and purple, with white swirling patterns. Their wool resisted Galbar's pull, but no matter how high they jumped, and they could jump high, they could not reach the stars. However, sheep are simple creatures. The celestial sheep continued to graze.

---

Oraelia was deep in thought after her meeting with Enmity. She couldn't truly grasp what he was and it baffled her. So much so that she had retreated all the way to her sun as she racked her brain, trying to come up with some further explanation. She had done this subconsciously and only when she felt it's true warmth did she realize where she had pulled herself too.

"Oh… This form is fast." she muttered to herself, reverting back into her base form. She let herself bask in the sun's light and it felt good. She hadn't realized just how big it was and felt good to visit her firstborn but Enmity still boggles her mind.

"Enmity… What an anomaly this Enmity. I suppose… If he's on the side of life, he can't be all that bad?" she spoke aloud to no one. "Perhaps I could try to… to alleviate his pain. Maybe then he'd become a being of flesh? But I shouldn't force that… That wouldn't be right." she let out a sigh and looked upon the distant blue orb where she and the others had worked.

It was a beautiful orb and one that needed a name. It was then she realized, she already knew its name. Galbar.

She needed to get back there. To create more, perhaps find Gibbou and show her what she had made. That would be nice.

A stir on her sun, however, pulled her attention back. The hot plasma swirled, concentrated and whitened. The white spot expanded, pulling more of the sun’s surface into it. On Galbar, the sea directly under it heated and boiled.

Oraelia felt her gentle warmth become blistering heat and she looked on in horror as the white spot expanded. She tried to calm her sun, but it was being unruly. Thus she began to panic.

The whirlpool surged up slowly like a bubble. The bright white light and heat reaching a climax. It inflated more and more then finally burst with a scream that made its way around half of the sun’s surface.

From the crucible emerged a woman, panting audibly and with unfocused eyes. Her golden hair and light skin almost blending in with the sun’s background. As soon as she left, Oraelia was able to grasp control of her sun again and once more ushered it back to calm. The blistering heat was no more and then her gaze turned to the newcomer.

Another sibling, a sister.

She floated over to her younger sister. Sensing Oraelia’s approach, the woman turned her head to face her. “Wha…” Still being dazed from her birth that was all she could voice.

Oraelia instantly knew that it was this one's fault about her sun. There was no malice in her eyes, no anger, just confusion. Oraelia floated before her and smiled warmly. "Well hello there, sister! Are you well?" she asked, putting a hand upon her shoulder.

“Sister…?” The woman’s vision focused and locked on to Oraelia. Her eyes went wide for a short moment before blinking. “I feel... warm.” She placed her own hand over the goddess’. “And so do you.” Her face gained a tinge of color. “Who are you, sister?”

"Of course you're warm, sweetheart. You just came from the sun!" she said with a large smile. "My name is Oraelia, goddess of Sunlight. What do you call yourself?"

“I’m…” The woman thought for a moment. “Evandra… I’m Evandra.” She looked around her. The sun was mostly a light yellow color with almost no features, and beyond was the blackness of the void. “So this place is the sun.”

"Evandra… What a wonderful name! It's so good to meet you!" she said, wrapping her in a tight hug. Oraelia then pulled away and waved her hand across the void and she said, "Yes indeed but-" her hand landed on the small blue orb of Galbar. "It is not the only thing here. That place is Galbar and we are making it to be beautiful and full of life, Evandra." she said, looking at her sister with a giddy smile. "I've created so many animals!"

Evandra laid her eyes upon Galbar, the blue and green of its surface filled her vision. She let out a long sigh and stood up. “It looks so…” Fires sparked to life around her body. “So beautiful!” The blush on her cheeks deepened. “Who made it? And what are animals?” She looked back to Oraelia in excitement.

Evandra's excitement, only made Oraelia even happier. She grabbed Evandra's hands within her own, gushed a happy sigh and said, "It was here when I woke up, the planet! And then I made the sun and Gibbou, my twin, and your sister, created the moon and then water came and the boar and the green and then and then i went down and saw the birds and gave them food and I created small furry things with tails and then larger furry things with antlers and hooves and then-" and she went on and on and told Evandra about everything she created, before ending on the Leons in the Prairie. "Then I met Enmity and he… He's not like us but he's okay and now we're here!" she beamed happily.

Evandra took it all in and nodded along the way. Just hearing it from her sister was enough to make her want to see it all for herself. She didn’t care much about the parts regarding Enmity, however. “All of that is on Galbar? I can barely wait.” Evandra’s giddiness was evident and the fires around her grew ever larger. “Oraelia, you’re lovely, but I have to see Galbar for myself.”

"Of course! Everyone should." she beamed.

Evandra returned the hug from earlier. “I’ll come visit you again.” She parted from Oraelia, looking at her with a tender smile. “Farewell for now.”

Oraelia gave her a puzzled look. "You don't think I live here do you? I'm going back to Galbar too, actually. Much more needs to be created still."

“Wonderful! Let’s go together then. I don’t know what I can create, but I want to try it myself as well.”

Oraelia changed back into her domain form, and whizzed around Evandra’s head, giggling. ”Come on then!” she exclaimed happily, before zipping off towards Galbar.

Evandra followed after Oraelia, now as a wisp. At first she fumbled on her flight, but quickly got the hang of it and found herself fast approaching Galbar. More features of the world came into view: clouds, mountains, trees.

Evandra slowed down before she crashed straight into the land and gently touched down on the earth. She looked around, her perception allowed her to see almost the entire island. It was barren, save for a few hills. The ground beneath her caught on fire when she landed, but the absence of any plants prevented it from spreading.

“What a disappointment. There’s nothing here at all.” The excitement from early had vanished and was replaced by a rather sour expression on Evandra’s face. Oraelia zipped past her, before shooting back around and landing in front of her in her base form. She tilted her head slightly, following Evandra’s gaze before giggling again.

”You picked one spot where no life has yet formed, sister. Go on and create something! Fill it with what you desire!” she said happily, picking up a rock to examine.

Evandra stood still for a moment, thinking. She looked around again then picked up a rock as well. Like the ground beneath her, it caught on fire and melted not long after, dripping off her hand back to the earth. “What can I create?”

Oraelia looked at Evandra and grinned. ”Anything you want. This place… It could use an ecosystem, something that can support life. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that life benefits from more life.”

Evandra thought again. The life she saw from the sun was either underwater, or on forests or fields. This place was none of those. And Evandra had already realized all she could make was fire. “Hmmmmmm…” She mumbled while thinking. Creating things was harder than she first thought.

“Okay… Let’s try this then.” She lowered one of her fires to the ground. Now that she willed it so, the fire spread out on the dirt, taking the silhouette of a four legged creature with a tail and robust torso. The fire burned for a while until it wiggled on its own and grunted and snorted. The fire died out, leaving behind a large creature with red scales. It stood on its four legs and walked a few slow steps, leaving behind its shape on the earth. It looked at Evandra and snorted again, fire leaving its nostrils. “I did it! It lives!” She knelt down and rubbed its scaled head, not showing much of a reaction aside then lifting its neck up to meet her hand.

Oraelia was fascinated, and looked on with amazement. She too joined Evandra, and felt the creature. She then said aloud, ”It will need to eat something to survive, and drink to sate its thirst and more of its kind to reproduce. Isn’t that just exciting!”

“It won’t need water. And there’s plenty to eat around here.” She picked up another rock and, before it could melt, gave it to the beast, who bit down on it and crushed the rock like it was nothing. “I can’t make the land look like the other places I saw from the sun, so instead of adapting the land I just made a creature that could thrive here as the place was.”

Oraelia brought her hands together in praise. ”How smart! I hadn’t even thought of that. Oh look at you, creating already. I’m so happy, Evandra. I’m glad you came to be.” she said.

Evandra let out a giggle and her face blushed again. With one final pat on the creature’s head, she stood up and created dozens of fires around them, another lizard coming from each one of them. They all looked around, then some wandered off while others tried to interact between themselves, eliciting a few hisses of annoyance from the more playful approaches. “I’ll call them salamanders.”

”A perfect name!” she said, twirling around the new salamanders. ”It makes me want to create even more!” she came to a stop before Evandra again and blinked a couple more times. ”Yes! I have the perfect idea for what I can do next. Oh, it’ll be wonderful!” she then smiled again and asked, ”What will you do now?”

“Explore the land. There are many things I’d like to see up close. Maybe visit one of our siblings if I happen to be near them. The prairie to the east of here was your creation, right?”

”Oh indeed! If you meet Gibbou, tell her I said hi. She kinda looks like me, but is darker.”

“I’ll make sure to do so.” She embraced Oraelia again. “Until next time then.”

She squeezed her back and said, ”Yes, until next time, sister.”

Evandra gave her sister one last warm smile before parting and taking flight eastward. She wasn’t going very fast, but soon the edge of the ocean came into view. The distance left to reach Oraelia’s prairie wasn’t much by what Evandra could gauge.

Light reflected a few ways before the coast, catching Evandra’s attention. It was a small lake, and couldn't be more than five meters across. She flew closer and landed near the edge. “This is water, huh? I’ll be crossing over a lot more of this before I reach Oraelia’s prairie.”

She walked a few steps until her reflection came into view on the water’s surface. She knelt down to look closer, infatuated by her own visage. Evandra moved her hand to touch the reflection. As soon as she did steam rose and she flinched. “Ouch!” The cool water had hurt her. Evandra had a very angry look on her face as she eyed down her newfound mortal enemy. Her hand ignited and she pressed it strongly against the edge of the lake. The fire vanished as if diving into the dirt and in a few minutes the whole lake began to steam and boil.

With a satisfied huff Evandra stood up. Instead of leaving, however, she looked intently into the boiling waters. With a tentative approach of her foot she touched the water’s surface. This time it didn’t hurt. In fact it was somewhat pleasant. She sank her foot in slowly, still unsure, and only the pleasant warmth was felt. Now confident that the water wouldn’t hurt her, she walked into the lake’s waters. They were quite shallow, but near the center they covered up to her thighs. She sat down slowly and let out a sigh. “It’s not quite like the sun, but it’s half bad in here. I think I’ll stay here a while longer”

For some amount of time now-- and also no time at all, since the passage of time during the ages of bountiful creation was quite hard to measure-- the Lifeblood had stilled. Though not content with all it had made, its endless bubbling and surging had settled down to a simmer as it contemplated what else could be made. It rebelled against itself, it hated itself. It loved itself, it pitied itself. Only when the swirling feelings had settled down the slightest bit did the Hot One choose the perfect occasion to establish itself as a new goddess. Now, there were two Warm Things, and it seemed that one of them was a lot more dangerous than the other. A lot more volatile.
Many parts of the Lifeblood were indifferent. Many were ecstatic. But many more were unnerved, and wary, suspicious of this "Evandra" and her fire. It wondered how the Cold would react. It wondered how Gibbou would react! And most importantly, it wondered how life would react. Could fire pose so great a threat that it wiped out all it had shaped?
Unacceptable. The Lifeblood drew itself together, unable to emote yet still feeling rather haughty and determined, and whisked away to the west, passing over the Prairie of Sol, where it saw Oraelia's leons on the prowl. When it alighted on the barren wastes adjacent to where Evandra had landed, it knew what it had to do.
Trees, trees everywhere. The giant trunks sprouted from the stone in droves, bark thick and red to absorb any potential fires, needles so thick that they already formed wet and humid canopies, hundreds of feet above. Drought tolerant grasses and ferns colonized the rock left beneath their hefty roots. Sap leaked from their bases in vast quantities, forming rivers of green that snaked their way to the ocean, enriching whatever it touched. The Lifeblood focused once more, and the branches burst open with animals of all kinds-- scurrying rodents, noble birds of prey, clawed wolverines, sleepy oppossums, and even deer with ruby antlers. They proceeded to munch and burrow, seeking refuge in the great trees without damaging their interiors. Each animal grew deeper and redder fur, blending in with the sequoias and redwoods to better avoid predators.
A curious salamander approached the edge of the newborn Torchless Wood, sniffing at a hazel frond that bobbed to and fro. With trepidation, the Lifeblood sat by to see what would happen. The reptile bit the frond, then recoiled, scampering back to its rocky wilderness to warn its fellow lizards of the terrible red and green things encroaching on their territory. As the Lifeblood watched it run, it felt worried. The salamanders might still find a way to destroy the wood. It needed something powerful, something like the leons, to ensure its safety.
The Lifeblood floated back through its temperate rainforest, probing for a spot where it might work its magic. Soon, it contented itself with a large cave, partially hidden by winding roots and hanging lichens. From the mouth-like darkness, it pulled, pouring in its hope and worry for all of Galbar into one, concentrated creature. Needles blew back and forth as wind issued from the cave. Clouds roiled through the canopy, and all nearby creatures cowered. Even the behemoth trees, modeled after the Tree of Genesis on the mainland, seemed afraid
From the mouth of the cave stepped a beast. At first glance, it might resemble one of Oraelia's lovely guardians, with wide feline paws and a glorious, rippling mane, a body supple and powerful enough to fell any foe. But the similarities stopped there. Clawed, sinewy wings sprouted from its back, striated in shades of red, brown, and purple. Potent stardust swirled in its fur, concentrated in its cosmic fur, setting it glittering with dark energies. Twin fangs half the length of its legs jutted from its upper lip, forcing a perpetual sneer onto its face. Its lithe lion body had lovely lilac forelegs, but a ghastly back that glistened with dripping blood and gore. A knotted tail, roped together by exposed muscles that creaked whenever they moved, ended in a brilliant flame that not only sucked light from its surroundings, and presumably heat as well. The beast was truly something else. It had not done much more than step forward, but the Lifeblood could feel the power coursing through it; it was fast enough to tear across the continent and back, as tireless as the Boar, with claws and teeth sharper than anything previously defined. It could soar higher and farther than any other creature. It could go anywhere, do anything, with no need for air or food. But it would kill anyway-- the Lifeblood could tell that much already. Cleverness glinted behind those malicious eyes, and it was not a reassuring intelligence.
It was anti-fire. It was anti-warmth. And when its eyes bore into the non-corporeal, wavering essence of the Lifeblood, it felt something it had never truly felt before- fear. This, this right here, was its worst creation, far beyond any Hell holes or tentacled monsters. When it looked at the dark lion, the lion looked back, intelligent and thirsty for destruction. The Lifeblood was frozen. It had no idea what to do next.
Salvation came in the form of a songbird, an insignificant force in the face of The Stryija. Its melody entranced the great cat, and a few refrains later, it was swaying on its wide feet. The Stryija blinked once, pupil-less eyes full of loathing for its creator, then slunk back into its cave. The Torchless Wood, along with the Lifeblood, breathed a sigh of relief.
Hell hath no fury as that monstrosity, should it ever be awoken again.

---

As the hull of Actuality cracked and bent against godly machination and Galbar became filled with a great many things, Boris scaled a mighty crag. Albeit not the greatest-this near vertical cliff-face jutting deep in the eastern region of the mountain range he decidedly dubbed the Godeo-it still proved to be quite the task for the ‘terrestrial by choice” lord of stone. Despite this, Boris remained privy to actions of the divine and the active force upon Toraan proper.

To the south his immovable sibling took root and went on the offensive, assaulting nearly the entire continent with the green. To the northeast the ball of fire and hot stuff branded a grassland in her liking, and installed a great many breathing-things there. To the northwest a similar plain spread by will of active force, this one a product of one of the rather doleful entities ruminating within in it. And to the north still a great mountain range crowned an endless tundra. Such was the craftsmanship that Boris considered visiting them himself one day.

As the Boar cleared the crag and came upon a great plateau, he extended his senses far past the edges of Toraan. Underneath his hooves he could feel the collision and subduction of tectonic place, causing great monoliths to rise up out of the Great Blue. And upon them things grew and breathed as the will of the active force exercised its might and creativity.

A deep twinge pulled at the boar’s insides. While he had been content to roll and play in his mountains, none could resist the dogma of purpose. And what was life without purpose?

Looking to the south, he beheld the unfathomable height of the sibling he affectionately named the Big Green, for lack of an actual name. It’s works brought a great many beauties to Toraan, and with it a wealth of undeniable utility. For as much as the boar admired beauty, value lay in its functionality all the same. And for what it was worth, the active force of actuality seemed to agree with his convictions.

Even now it worked upon the Godeo, blessing it with a bounty of grass and flowers to counter it’s snow-capped peaks and tundra-like alpine. And with it came a great many breathing-things, winged and bird-like, strong and built last.

And then, the tegument of actually snapped, and the blood-curdling scream of a creature erring towards damnation reaches the Boar’s ears. It came from the west.

With a snort, Boris flexed and leapt into the sky, clearing hundreds of kilometers in a single bound. He landed heavily and jumped again, this time clearing twice the distance. A moment later he landed on a hillside, young with the first snows of the lower alpines.

At his hooves rested the desecrated corpse of a flying-thing. It’s body battered, lacerated and sloppily devoured beyond recognition, what was left of its exterior had been removed expertly.

The Boar bristled. Then snorted. And like rolling thunder the rage of the mighty mountain came, solid and palpable, and with it the active force of creation drew close, waiting to be molded. Yet he was silent in his fury, for he knew that the creatures' end was a byproduct of his own ire and irresponsibility.

The smell of blood and rot led down the mountain and into a valley m, but he made no move to follow it. The hunt could wait. For a debt he owed to life, in his rage he had wrought a plague upon existence, and he would pay the tithe three times over in remittance, and eviscerate the enemy.

Summoning the lifeblood too him, the boar took what was left of the corpse and reshaped it. And the active force eagerly obeyed, reconstituting bone where much had been destroyed, and sinew was reconstructed, and muscles were synthesized according to the form Boris wrought. Flesh covered over it, and brown fur over that, replacing its matted feathers.

And when all was finished, the Boar and the whole of actuality looked upon what they had created. It was a skinny thing, standing upright on hooved yet possessed hand at the ends of its arms. And affixed atop its head was a mighty crown of antlers, and between them a golden ring shown with the light of the sun, a sign belonging to those of the mountain god’s brood. It’s eyes gleamed with a knowing intelligence.

Boris huffed, and saw that it was good.



And the four legged thing called Aeinwaje bowed and projected:

”Just as you will it, so it will be done, lest I lay down my existence to damnation. I swear it.”

Boris grunted, and went on to teach him many things.

---

The tempestuous streams of mana were calming down over time. They violently clashed far less often. Instead, they simply crossed or conjoined. Still, these streams moved slowly across Galbar. One such stream had moved slowly ever more down south. Until it touched upon the Genesis Tree. As if the mana knew that the might Tree-God had dug its roots deep into the planet, it did not break itself upon it as the Anchor Stream did. No, instead it gently began to coil itself around its bark, three times in total. Before it continued on its path. And even though streams could change their paths, it would appear this one stream had attached itself to the Tree-God and did not desire to let go.

Meanwhile, high in the heavens, the Moon Flow was disrupted by various debris flying around it. Each singular piece could not draw the grand stream away from the vast, dusty, empty seas. Yet together they began to chip away at it. Until finally minor streams began to wave a path from a comet to meteor and comet again. These thin lines were nothing compared to a great Stream. Yet they wove an intricate pattern in fine lines of mana in between the various heavenly pieces. Resulting in a perhaps chaotic, but beautiful pattern. Thus the Voidspread had created itself.


Qael’Naath had remained high in the heavens for some time. Content to let his brothers and sisters fill the planet with life. From his vantage point, he saw grand continents raised from the depths. He saw forests and plains grow and be filled with various wondrous life. Yet now the time of waiting had ended. Sooner, rather than later, sapience would be spawned that could affect mana. Sapience that could create magic. They would require the right tools and resources. Qael’Naath was quite ready to oblige. Once more he descended without friction through the clouds. He fell into the great forest of Toraan, north of the Anchor Mountains. Where he instantly got to work. First, he created a colony of large, spider-looking creatures. These things wouldn’t need to eat the local bugs. Instead, they would spin webs that could capture mana, which they then consumed to power a hyper-efficient kind of photosynthesis. One much more powerful than plant-life required. The Manarachnids’ their webs would be filled with bountiful mana floating down from the Anchor Stream. In time, these Manarachnids would be found all over the forest though. However, Qael’Naath did not make them harmless. Their poison was strengthened with mana. Making it far more lethal. More importantly, those poisoned would be temporarily cut off from mana.

Deep in his mind, a little whisper would think of alternatives to what he was doing, what if the poison instead enhanced the mana? What if the creature was rare and mutated into other things quickly? It was a sway towards more chaotic acts, something Qael’Naath had been feeling as of late.

He shrugged the thought off. No, no that wasn’t part of his plan. The poison would cut you off. His mind refocused and he moved on to his next step. He flew over the Anchor and landed again in the Gardens. Which was teeming with life. The place was a true cornucopia. Yes, this would do nicely. Mana was not as thick here as it was on the other side of the mountains. His creature would solve that issue. He gathered some mana in between his hands and mixed it with his own divine power. Slowly they began to take shape, like a flock of small, strange-looking birds. Their long, graceful tail feathers would catch anyone’s eye immediately. Their iridescent color gave away that these birds were not just mundane beasts. They fluttered away from Qael’Naath. Glistering trails followed them. A mortal’s eye could not see it, but the tail feathers were drawing mana every so slightly towards it. It had to, for its wings were made too small. Instead, it subconsciously used wind magic to stay up in the air. The God of Magic watched as the Rainbow Birds flew away. Satisfied with the result.

Once again, he would find himself losing sight, and this time, he would also find himself acting up on his wishes. A sudden obsession with the color scarlet came over him, and, without thinking, he reached for one of the late birds, the red in its rainbow started to consume the other colors, and its unconscious use of mana gained a slight red glow. There was no greater change, but a rarer type of the already rare birds was created, it was a relatively tame action.

Qael’Naath pulled away his influence the moment he realized what was going on. Why did he do that? The color meant nothing. It was simply an effect of the siphoning powers in the feathers. Why would he change it? Something began to puzzle him. Why was he acting so… random? So erratic? Those were questions for later. Now he needed to finalize his mortal creations. For that he went forth and plunged into the ocean.There he found his flow of mana mixed with water rather quickly. Then he noticed that some creation had already felt some attraction towards the Flow. Jellyfishes were dipping in their tentacles into it, capturing whatever came through and eating it. With an outstretched hand, he commanded the flow to momentarily expand and consume the jellyfishes. Who were suddenly pulled into the whirling current. Mana began to infuse into them. Though it was too much. The jellyfishes would die, if not for Qael’Naath’s quick action. He worked his divine power to create a new organ within the jellyfishes. A sack that could hold vast amounts of magical power. He then commanded the flow to spit out the creatures. Who quickly scattered away from it. Taking with them the bulbous organs. Which would every so slowly seed mana in every bit of place they visited.

With the jellyfishes created, Qael’Naath flew back up. From his earlier vantage point in the void he had spotted an excellent place for the next step. It didn’t take long before he found the tiny island just north off of the newly created hilly grasslands. With strange jumping far too high. The island was still barren. Nearly untouched by creation. Not for long. Qael’Naath rested his hand upon the cold stone below and pushed his power deep into the rocky surface. A rumbling traveled through the island. Divine activity was pushing up the molten rock below. The first volcano erupted on the island. Sending a cloud of smoke and ash into the heavens. Lava roiled into the seas. Hardening and joining the land. Another volcano burst open. Then another and another. In total five volcanoes could be seen spitting toxic fumes into the air. Orange glowing lightning crackled in the plumes and the skies darkened. The island had grown enough. But it still wasn’t finished. Underwater cracks formed around it. Water boiled up from it. Turning the water around it into a death zone for the sea life surrounding it. Hundred if not thousands of animals perish. Qael’Naath did not care. Instead the island began to slowly rise from it’s earthly clutches. Underwater lava quickly hardened, but the water kept on boiling off the heat. As the whole island rose from the sea, the God of Magic pushed more divine power into the ground. The hard, basalt rock began to weather, break and shatter. It ground itself down to find grit, sand and even moist dirt. From it, a vast amount of tropical plants grew. Behind him, sandy shores formed around a lagoon that had shed the last of the necessary water across the edge. If one would ignore the rumbling volcanoes and the pitch-black sky, you would believe the island to be a paradise. When it reached its altitude, touching just below the skies, it began to move laterally. The Isle of Xal-Zastarha was created.

And so the oceans teemed.

All across the numerous waters of Galbar life blossomed below the waves, in its hundreds of thousands of variations. Seemingly endless schools of shimmering fish assaulted the senses as undersea tidal waves of color while huge basking animals surged through the waters, mouths agape. Deep below, in rocks and crags and crevasses, little things scuttled and nipped at one another. Even at the microscopic level life flourished, with organisms so small as to be near impossible to see except in their teeming masses filling the oceans from the surface all the way down to the deepest depths.

And so Klaar was pleased.

His meeting with the Maiden of the Moon had given the Old Growth Below a considerable sense of clarity, his awareness of the world vastly increased. The old forces of growth were not alone and nor were these separate entities definitively hostile. In fact, they could be downright congenial. Klaar had taken this knowledge well. Perhaps there were more of such quality about the face of Galbar, destined to splash into his oceans for choice meetings such as the one he had shared with Gibbou.

So it was that the mighty Klaar continued his passage through the oceans, spreading life in abundance. But even in this new paradise of life, Klaar deigned that something was missing. Life was simple, basic, and in balance; a good thing, to be sure, but lacking in any true depth. His works had been animalistic in nature, each life often wrought by the alien minds of his numerous tentacles rather than the overmind of Klaar himself. Few thoughts had gone into their creation and they were, although bountiful, of little consequence. As the surface blossomed into trees that towered into canopies so thick as to drain all light from above, Klaar felt the joint mind of his numerous nodes chime in for ever greater creations. How could this be an age of creation with such limited growth?

And so Klaar set to work once more, the many minds of his labyrinthine intelligence designing the creatures that would be his crowning achievements. Designs for numerous new creations spawned rapidly in the mindseye of Klaarungraxus and were stored away for eventual creation. To the casual observer, like the small krill that flitted its little limbs several hundred meters away from the Deep God’s mass, Klaar flitted his limbs and shrunk down on himself, eyes losing their luster as he lost himself in thought.

Days, weeks, potentially months passed as Klaar’s numerous subminds set about the business of designing, testing, and experimenting with the life Klaar envisioned being spawned into the world. Uncontent with the limitations his first iteration of creation had wrought, this next wave would raise the tidewaters of life. They would each be monumental, if not in size than in value to the ecosystems they would be thrust into. Each new species would serve as a pillar for the environments Klaar had full intention to make manifest on the face of Galbar.

The first of his works would be simple but vast in scope; an expansion, thought left-below-two-down, of a basic design already extant that could be expanded upon. With a little effort the exoskeletal life of Galbar’s oceans could be grown to macro-scale and made primary movers of their environs; Titanocrustacea, the Titan Crabs. Numerous forms of the family could be made ranging in sizes and shapes already present in crustacean life. From those more simple designs Klaar could, of course, return to the creatures at a later date and further expand upon the concept. Henceforth the seafloor would be dotted by moving islands, the numerous giant crustaceans that graze on the bountiful sea grasses of the Galbarian Oceans.
Sea Serpents would follow, the lithe pseudo-reptilians born from numerous strands of thought melded into one. They would be omnivorous by design, sporting dentition allowing for the consumption of all sea life available to them. Their long, thin bodies were the ideal shape for both rapid movements and survival in the numerous passageways found both in the cavernous depths of the ocean and the tunnel-like growth of corals now densely populating the oceans. At least half-a-dozen separate species of the Sea Serpent family had been devised, differentiated by color, appendages, and other qualities of superficial or behavioral note. All Sea Serpents, regardless of species, would benefit from electrosensory organs imbedded all across the dermis of the organism with varying capacity to release electrical charges to either detect or, in the most serious of cases, stun other organisms.

The Reef-Horses would be the next creation decided upon, a family of brightly colored and highly visually diverse organisms that could populate the great fields of multi-colored seagrasses that now swathed portions of the seabed in a taidai of color. Envisioned to be semi-amphibious, the Reef-Horse family would all share an at-least visually similar body structure with a quadrupedal gait. Their fins, spread across several phillanges, could be tightened to form pseudo-hooves for either grasping onto the seabed or when exiting the waters to explore the shorelines. All forms of sessile life, from seagrasses to molluscs and everything in between, would be prime sources of sustenance for the species and as such they would bare dentition adequate for the varied tasks of stripping fronds or cracking shells. An image played across the many-minds of Klaar, of a future where perhaps they could serve future creations; a passing fancy to consider another time.

The envisioned apex-predators of this new undersea explosion of life were the Deep Drakes; an array of reptilian-like predatory life built around traversing the craggy reefs and deep caverns of the sea, the Deep Drakes would be a marvel of organic creation. Four powerful limbs, able to spread into fins just as the Reef Horses, terminated in powerful clawed appendages capable of digging into even rock to keep purchase in strong tides. Bioluminescent growths could be used to communicate with other Deep Drakes, attract prey, or ward off rivals in the darkness of the depths while their scaly hide and pseudo-lungs allowed for extended periods of time spent above water. Above the waves, extended fins could be used for leaping glides and threat displays. To challenge all forms of life beneath the waves, their jaws could produce bite forces capable of shattering bone like twigs and barbed tails could be used to lash at prey or foe alike.

With all those varied creatures in mind, it seemed odd what Klaar’s overmind focussed on most. At the center of his roiling thoughts was a creature born of his own image, an entity that would be his own visage made manifest. Though he had no interest in creating a species in replication of his own personality and behavior, he had to admit that his primary form was ideal for the world he resided in. Although they would be slightly derivative, what harm could there be in a creation such as he?

As envisioned in the minds-eye of the Old Growth Below, these creatures would be reminiscent of his own enviable form. Each would bare twelve limbs, arranged symmetrically along a vertical axis. The bottom eight would serve as primary means of locomotion, either through swimming or through pulling themselves through an enclosed environment, with the top two pairs serving as manipulators for more delicate interactions with objects. From there Klaar would bless their species with extraordinary strength, tossing aside any notions of skeletal structure in favor of a far more functional model. Muscular sacs would serve as primary points of structure, with the ability to fill up with or expel gasses for buoyancy. Despite their considerable size, the power of their limbs would allow them to move through the water with dreadful speed and the lack of bones would make them as agile as possible given their girthy shape.

Again he lavished upon this idealized mortal form with further gifts. Their senses, particularly their sight and hearing, would be greatly increased. Six eyes would provide for near three hundred and sixty degrees of rotational vision and an array of light spectrums would be made visible, turning the dark depths of the sea into their own, colorful haven. Sounds from miles away underwater, bounced from surface to surface, would be at least somewhat traceable and provide ample heading for predations. Even their senses of smell and touch would be increased as well, though in less radical ways. Their brain, large yet amorphous, would even be strengthened with a spread of neural connections spread across their tentacles just as his own mind was subdivided and decentralized so that each limb would have a deadly mind of its own.

With all their gifts, Klaar realized he had failed in several regards. They were cold-blooded, like all of his creations beneath the waves, and that meant they would be slave to the temperatures of the sea. Sluggishness in cold waters, slowed metabolisms, and the need to fuel their size would be a problem. A level of biological immortality had been implanted into their flesh, leading to a species that should by all rights simply grow past death and be immune to the fickle ministrations of time. With this ever growing size, no matter how slow the rate, the species would require considerable amounts of nutrients to support itself and would necessitate solitude among the species. Though he had made magnificent predators and destroyers, Klaar was made frustratingly aware that these creatures could never create in the ways he did.

As the final thoughts of creation spilled from Klaar’s mind on the life he had dreamt into reality, Klaar felt a resounding sense of pride and an overwhelming wash of disappointment all at once. There was an awareness of how limited these unnamed creatures would be despite the effort and imagination he had poured into them. It seemed, despite his own magnificence, that these would be but pale imitations of the true thing.

”I name thee Vrool, little mirrors mine. May thine being disappoint no longer.”

---

The small orb that was Oraelia’s form flew south east, over ocean and land she went, until she came upon a most verdant land. She stopped here and looked around, noting how the fruits and vegetables grew in such size and abundance. It was a strange land, and she wondered who had created it. What purpose did it serve other than to make animals fat? There were so many herbivores here, eating the resplendent feast that was before them. As such, this brought the carnivores, who hunted on well fed prey. She could taste in the very air just how fertile the land was. The water fed the soil and the soil fed the plants, whose roots grew deep.

Yet, it needed something but Oraelia did not know what. She hovered for a long time, before moving on, further west. She would have to revisit that place, perhaps then an idea would form. For now, her idea that she had gained from Evandra, needed to take shape.

She eventually arrived upon the western coast of the continent, where she was satisfied with what she had found. Nothing but her siblings trees and plants surrounded her, with the occasion hill and stream. The land was special, even though it lacked anything out of the ordinary. Oraelia’s feet touched the ground as she shifted forms, and she knelt down grabbing a handful of dirt.

She then blew the dirt from her hand, and as it went, it expanded, changing the landscape as it did. The trees expanded, bark coursing with luminescent lines, as it grew in height while their leaves began to glow a bright yellow. Other trees began to glow reds, and oranges, with blues and violet barks. Yet some trees retained their greens, and instead bore fruit that twinkled even in daylight. The ground vegetation became vibrant colors that shimmered and hummed as the wind brushed their tops and all of the grasses became different shades of blues. The waters here became crystal clear, refracting the light into millions of small rainbows. While the animal life changed to reflect their surroundings. Colorful birds began to radiate their colors until they were nothing more than lights that could fly. Others became brighter, more colorful and incandescent.

When the changes settled, Oraelia grinned ear to ear. Though the Prairie of Sol reflected what her siblings had done, this new ecosystem was entirely by her design. She would name it the Luminant, and it would be a shining jewel, a place where the sun never truly left.

Yet it needed something else, a final touch of both her passions. She ventured deeper into the Luminant until she came across a lake. Here she waded in and tasted the clarity of the waters and knew what to do. She thought about her conversation with Enmity, and how he could help him. Though she knew this never would, it was a start.

She poured a different sort of power into the lake, one of life and healing. The lake’s shimmer grew tenfold and it radiated an aquamarine as several new streams were created, sending it’s healing waters flowing through the land. She would name this place, this holy site, the The Lake of Radiance and it was there, she would bask for awhile.

The lifeblood continued to stir. It looked upon its creations so far, that which intermingled and cooperated and competed with those of the primordial gods. Eventually, it found itself focusing its omniscient gaze upon one individual in particular. A large cat, deep within the jungle. Red eyes. Snow-white fur. An albino. Its thin tail swayed idley, looking almost as if it would snap off from its malnourished body if bent at the wrong angle. Tired, half lidded eyes rolled over the forest canopy, scanning to find the food so desperately needed. Its ears perked up as the trees gave an answer. A howling. It crept in the direction to find a troop of monkeys going about their business, rearing their young, gorging themselves on the bounty of the rainforest. Just as her mother had taught, the cat extended her claws, flattened herself against the branch, crept closer to her prey. Alerted the primates with her bleached skin. Heard the lookout screech a warning at the troop. Watched as her food nimbly retreated through the dense foliage, rocketing through the trees at a pace she could never hope to match. Gave up, and collapsed onto her branch. As the lifeblood watched this sad spectacle, it took pity. This animal was a victim of the fates, a mistake of Galbar that would soon be corrected and removed from the gene pool. In the game of life, there would always be losers. But to be cursed from birth in such a way seemed a special kind of cruelty. In an truly uncaring universe, said cruelty would simply be par for the course. the cat would die, few if any would notice, and life would go on.

This was not that universe.

The lifeblood swirled around the lethargic feline like a tornado in miniature, active as it always was, and where it flowed, the cat changed. Its emaciated body became lithe and muscled. Alabaster fur fell off in large clumps. Everything grew until triple the previous size.And skin turned from a sickly and wrinkled shade of pink to a veritable canvas of the jungle, vines and leaves and flowers and bark, all identical to the forest behind it, changing scenery to match as the she moved.
All the while, the cat scrambled and panicked at the unforeseen transformation, thrashed until her ever-increasing weight caused the branch she was sulking on to snap, sending her tumbling through the canopy. She was now quite sure this was what dying was like, and to call it surprising would be an understatement. With a resounding thud she hit ground, and for five minutes she sat there, waiting for whatever curveball existence would throw next. But the lifeblood was gone by now, having done what it came to do. Far from the starving runt she was moments ago, She felt immense power course through her veins, her curse lifted by forces she would never dare to understand. And Life went on. She looked to one particular tree on the horizon, the one that reached into the heavens and then some. She trudged towards it with a purpose and, barely thinking, began to climb. The branches did not even concede to bend under her newfound weight. This would be her home, her own domain to protect. This would be where she would prosper.

Klaar ruminated in the shallow waters off the coast of the vast continent pulled up by the boar god Boris at the beginning of the world. To the animal life that flourished inland, Klaar’s presence would be recognized more as an entire, strangely colored island suddenly rising from the oceans rather than as a creature, so immense was the girthy protuberance jutting out from the waters. The large, multihued eyes belied a sense of scale as they twisted and turned in opposing directions, absorbing all there was to see regarding this world above the waves.

In Klaar’s heart, he knew he looked upon the work of his equal. The world tree, as tall and wide as Klaar could ever dream to be, loomed in the horizon. In the light of the setting sun Klaar watched the illuminated silhouette of the Old Growth Above and longed for a meeting of minds. One day, several tentacles assured the overmind, they would get such an opportunity. Until then, Klaar was able to grasp at the creations of the Tree of Genesis with fawning appreciation. Each and every one of them was beautiful, reminiscent of their artist in each and every way. The life above seemed far more soothing than it was below and Klaar often found himself perturbed that the fauna of the Deep were not simply made of beautiful corals and swaying sea grasses; surely it was working on land.

”Thou hath cast thine image beyond mine reach, oh, blessed mirror of root and sky. How I hath yearned for thine emerald mind.”

As Klaar intoned the Deepspeak words of his thoughts, his yearning was made manifest. Waves lapped at the edges of the continent like grasping hands, reaching desperately inland and away from the shore. White waters crashed and receded and so too did one eye roll downwards to observe with newly spawned fascination workings of water on the sand. As waves dragged back into their home, no longer able to brave the harsh surface world, rivers and rivulets of glistening ocean blood dragged helpless sand back in their clutches. Surely, Klaar reasoned, the sea would not surrender so easily when faced with such an obstacle as a simple beach.

”Damnable shoreline, thy will to malice outstrips thine use,” Disdain and consternation overwhelmed the old god, beak clicking a slow yet furious beat as all eyes turned their attention to the shore.

”Knowest thee now to be mine equal when erstwhile thou hath been mine progeny!? Damn thee, shoreline! No strand can be mine master! Klaarungraxus defies thee!”

One great tentacle rose from the water, threatening the destruction of the dastardly shoreline that served as Klaar’s great antagonist. The huge was lifted above the shoreline before Klaar before descending onto that most vile of foes. The tip of the tentacle thrust into the sands and dragged a small crevasse in the sand. Water flooded into the wound left in the shore and Klaar leaned in to watch his rival drown. His intent gaze remained locked on the water flooding into the new space made by Klaar’s vicious attack on the continent. Cogs the size of boulders turned in his head as dread mathematics and calculations at the biochemical level were done at breakneck speek.

”It dawns on me . . . “

A burst of awareness overtook Klaar’s mind then, each tentacle pinging back agreement till consensus was reached. With one blow Klaar had been able to determine his enemy’s weakness once and for all and provide a potential step to finally contacting the Tree of Genesis as he so craved. He could at long last view the works of that twin above the waves close at hand, grasp at the trunks and leaves he had never experienced and deepen his own grasp of the marvelous art that was creation.

The foolish shoreline had proven it could be its own undoing.

Klaar began to whisper soft calls in Deepspeak to the waters, little soliloquies and know-nothings that made water dance to his tune. An entire stretch of beach, nearly a kilometer in length, seemed to sink lower into the ground. Water hefted sand across the surface, pushing this soil of Klaar’s own making to far corners of this new envisioned world. Soon multiple channels formed, deep enough for life to inhabit but not enough for the land to be drowned. Klaar was confident if he so wished he could drown the entire continent with little effort but this would accomplish little; then the works of the Tree of Genesis would be ruined and the beauties it had wrought would be turned to rot and muck before Klaar could admire them. No, a more insidious solution had been devised through the shoreline’s taunting.

Why not simply move the ocean inland?

Tentacles followed the inlets into the shoreline, life sprouting in their wake. Unlike the reefs and kelp forests nestled gently beneath the waves, the horrors of the sun softened by the waters of Klaar’s own making, the life spawned here would need to be more robust. Large, terrestrial corals began growing, their life cycles accelerated to an insane rate till they towered like trees. Rocky outcroppings were pulled from the sandy soil to give new, sessile life anchors to grow on and one by one new species popped up from the tentacles’ inquisitive probings. Huge anemones grasped at the air with phyto-reactive, bright green limbs while frond-like appendages thrust forth from barnacle-like organisms to drink up the sun’s life-giving rays. Towering stalks of land-kelp rose up towards the sky with large globes filled with lighter-than-air gasses keeping them afloat. At the edges and between the columns of coral, fields of sea-grasses grew. It was, in every way, the sea brought to land.

Klaar wriggled with ecstatic joy; this was EXACTLY what he had so desired. Though the terrestrial reefs were not necessarily as majestic as the forests now covering the surface of the continent they certainly had their own, aquatic charm. But, with such a blossoming environment it could not simply be enough to leave it as is; life must teem, afterall.

Sliding back into the sea just at the mouth of this coral-born estuary, Klaar began roiling up the seafloor into a great cloud of darkened waters. From the expanding cloud of sand and muck spawned forth a myriad of organisms, most either life intended to live in the low tidal pools between the corals or to climb about their surfaces. Coral Mites, as numerous in shape as snowflakes, billowed forth from the murky brine to inhabit their new home. The oddly diverse crustaceans disappeared into sand, hollows in the coral, or the clumps of grasses that brought color to the channels.

With the basis of life formed, Klaar drew forth from the waves ever more diverse array of organisms to fill out this new niche environment. Building from the ground up in terms of the complex food chain that would need to be formed, Klaar simultaneously crafted a number of quadrupedal crustaceans, born of the same lineage from which he had crafted shrimp, to serve as herd animals and grazers. Termed Caproshrimps, they would serve as one of the primary prey organisms in the terrestrial reefs. In addition to these exoskeletal grazers, a family of endoskeletal herding quadrupeds would help steady the base of the food chain. They would take their colorful bodies, scaled hides, and crushing beaks from the lessons Klaar had learned from the growth of tropical fish, so-called Shorecattle. Gifted with strong beaks and long, prehensile tongues, they could eat both the shelled fruits of the flora from their world or directly graze on the grass patches dotting the landscape. Alongside these terrestrial organisms were barnacle-fliers, partially protected, flying creatures that scrabbled across corals and could fly between them with ease. Kytes, ranging in all shapes and sizes, would join them in the air as ray-like predators snatching smaller animals from the shoreline.

Predators, of course, were soon to follow and a number of forms were considered. The magnificent Deep Drake would be the basis of the apex predator of these waterless reefs, Land Drakes taking on many of the qualities of their more aquatic ancestors while shedding those made unnecessary by a life spent primarily outside of deep waters. Bearfish, formed from the same lineage as Shorecattle, would serve as a healthy middle ground between the apex-predator and those below it, able to bring down smaller organisms with ease while simultaneously browsing on the flora available to itself. Finally, pack hunting Tidal Jackals would round out the food chain as scavengers and opportune hunters.

The array of life unleashed so readily by Klaar was staggering, even for himself. Nevertheless, such things did not call for babysteps. The coastal reefs would dot the shorelines of the continent wherever Klaar saw fit, breaking up beaches and coastal cliffs when adequate environs were available to be turned swiftly into reef. With this first of many done, planted just west of the Tree of Genesis, Klaar knew he could proliferate the environment across the coasts of the numerous continents and islands now being stolen from the deep by capricious gods. Though he had accepted that they should rightly have their own worlds, it would do well to remind them that he could retake what was once rightfully his.

Klaar wriggled with barely contained excitement; oh, what a lovely day.

---

The awareness of the vast consciousness was like a veil wrapped about the world, intrinsically it could pick up on the happening therein and it saw them, it felt them, without bias or thought. At times it would focus its intent and the veil would gather, revealing its presence and its power to those who paid attention to such things. Yet, it did not interfere with the creations of its firstborn, the primordials--though they did not yet know their name. It only passed judgment on itself and its own indecision, its own failures. As it observed existence in its present state, spread out below the veil of its vast mind, the living design came to a realization.

The veil gathered, power spilled forth, but it was far more pervasive and subtle than it had been prior. Waves and eddies of divine essence weaved their way into the weft of the world's fabric. The skies roiled in response and so winds cast their way across the world, layered upon one another in a complex dance inspired by a child who had suffused the world with mana. This new occurrence created ripples and the Lifeblood harnessed them, tying them into the screaming backdrop of the Unknowable Wrongness that constituted the Machine Child before--separately--linking the Winds of Mana to the Breath of the World.

Thus came to be Weather--and as time progressed--the Seasons. In those moments so too were entwined Physics, Magic, and Climate where they would remain in perpetuity. Yet, as the Living Design gazed across its creation and felt every breath and thought and feeling and movement of its living grandchildren, it found that it was dissatisfied. Something within it stirred and the Design's awareness withdrew as instability wracked its intangible existence. Flashes of color spread like rippling electric pulses through neural networks; emotion and sensation waned and waxed, even thoughts pushed to the surface, threatening to overwhelm it, to go beyond its grasp.

Then, all at once, silence. Its awareness spread like a shockwave throughout the cosmos and from it sprang threads of incorporeal nature, touching the minds of all things that existed save for its children--though they would feel it too. What followed was a shudder that ran through the world, the intricate pattern of the Lifeblood's consciousness shifting phase as it disassociated and became intertwined with the world and its inhabitants.

A whirling cyclone of thought and ecstatic emotion roiled through the Lifeblood and it lost its focus for the briefest of instants. Twas at that moment a disturbance cut through the vast Collective Mind and in doing so...life learned to sleep for the first time. It would not be the last. Regaining control, the Lifeblood shuddered and the focus it had achieved waned, going dormant once more, though strangely it seemed as if it were just below the surface...as if waiting for a chance to escape. Having no time for such considerations, the Design moved on, slipping again into the world it had created.

Who knew what it might make next.

---

It lived in the darkness, in a place where light dared not go, one safe from the chaos of the world being forged above. It hadn’t been for long, but that didn’t stop it from being. It skittered across the cold rock walls of its home, foraged for fungus that grew only in these depths, and fought with the others that called the darkness home when it came to it. Not that such happened often, but when it did the winner was always promised a meal. Nothing went to waste here.

It had just won one such battle, the first of its brief existence, and it feasted on the flesh of its fallen brother. It took no pleasure in the act, but food was food. There was little enough of it in the darkness. So it bit down, its chitinous jaws digging into the soft flesh of a brother of the darkness, and in that moment something happened.

A presence it had felt once before overcame it, and a thousand thousand voices began to whisper in its ear holes. It was overcome, paralyzed, and helpless against what happened next. Without warning it began to hurt, its body exploding in pain, but with every agony it felt itself change. The voices argued, grew frantic, and the pain intensified. It was tiny, but it grew and grew and soon it barely fit in the cave that it was its home. A dozen thin legs grew heavy and powerful, and its mandibles grew longer, sharper. It was in agony, but a thought drawn from the cacophony of voices began to dominate its mind, a mind which began to think more and more with every second.

It was hungry.

So terribly, unimaginably, hungry. At the realization the creature tried to move, and the whispers grew faster and more emphatic still. Its flesh began to twist and change again. Gnashing, vicious, teeth grew behind the cruel hooks that had replaced its mandibles. Its legs grew awful spikes that captured anything that came close, and its body grew tough. Unimaginably tough. It writhed and where it struck rock the caves walls gave way, when it bit down on an obstacle to its bulk the stone was all but pulverized.

The pain began to fade, and the whispers began to fade with it, but before they were done something intangible fell over the mutated creature of the darkness. It had never noticed such before, but there had been an order to the world in the past, when it was small and helpless and it wasn’t so hungry. There had been mystery, wildness, mana, magic, the unknown. Now they were gone. It felt nothing from the world around it. It was alone, and with that thought, and it could think, it resolved not to be so.

The force that had created it had left it with a knowledge that it alone could spawn its kind in uncounted numbers. It wished for nothing more, but first it had to eat. It knew it had to eat. It needed the strength to do what was to be done, and it was ever so hungry. So, so hungry.

With that in mind it surged forwards in the darkness, and it began to devour.

It wondered when that had become so fun.

---

Through his hole in reality, Enmity caught a brief sight. A wisp of energy, outside of his knowledge. Unfamiliar to the grounded physicalities he brought to consistency, he followed it through its discordant travel. A whole stream of it, he brought back the tear in reality, overlooking Galbar itself. Not just a stream, whole rivers and oceans of it.

With an invisible needle of power, Enmity plucked some of it up, secreting it away and inspecting it. It was indeed as it first seemed, a new form of energy outside the physical laws. Tentatively placing the wisp back into its stream, the god followed.

He could feel a focal point in the new energy, just ahead of the stream. He pushed ever onwards, watching a floating island grow in the distance. Nobody intercepted him, so he pushed onwards, streaking invisibly towards the island. He had spotted Quall, but Quall had not spotted Enmity.

At least, until Enmity was right on top of the island.

The God of Magic had been utterly obsessed with his floating island. It was to be his crown jewel. In time, mortals would be allowed to come up here. But only the ones worthy. They would walk the grand temple halls that would be carved in the coming years. Or walk the sprawling wild gardens. What all of those buildings would look like, Qael’Naath couldn’t say yet. It all depended on the civilizations that would grow on Galbar. For he would model his temple-complex after all of them combined. Alas, for now, he was meticulously designing every tree that grew or would grow. The placement of every tiny lake. He even dedicated time to the moss growing in the underground lagoons. Right now he was working on one particular tree near the shore of a beautiful, tropical, freshwater lake. Until he noticed a presence upon his island. One much, much too close to have snuck on him unnoticed. He turned around but, for a moment, saw nothing. Yet his divine senses had most certainly alerted him. Then he saw it. The trails of divine power. Radiating in the air. “I implore you to come out of hiding, my sibling.” Qael’Naath said as he walked towards the sunny beach.

The rasping wheeze emerged from the air, “I am not hiding from you.”

An odd statement for one who clearly did not appear in the physical realm. Alas, Qael’Naath did not think any more persuasion would bring the god out of hiding. Instead, he focused his own divine senses to find where he was. What he found surprised him. Divine power emanating from…nothing. Just air. “You’ve chosen a unique shape.” The mage-god said as he turned towards the concentration of divine power. “I am Qael’Naath, God of Magic. Lord of the Streams and Flows. And you?”

The wheeze spoke again, “I am Enmity. I noticed your new streams of energy. Outside the universal constant. I’ve come with a peace offering.”

His streams? Outside the universal constant? A laughable accusation. Mana was part of creation. It had always existed. It adheres to all natural laws. Yet he did not desire hostility just yet. “Speak and I will hear your offer.” He said as he sat down in the sands.

“I can create guardians of the streams for you. To prevent its misuse and to help bring into the physical law,” Enmity rasped at the god.

The God of Magic wanted to refuse outright. Why should he accept such an offer and allow his streams to be guarded over by someone else’s creations? He was capable enough to protect them himself. Furthermore, he required no help to bring them into physical law. They were already part of nature. That was enough. Then again, would this god take rejection well? “Your offer is appreciated.” Qael’Naath said. “Yet it is unrequired. Mana’s place in this universe has been chosen and I see it fit to stay there.”

The pocket of divine power wavered a moment, before Enmity spoke, “It is a peace offering. If it is unrequired, then it will do no harm to do it regardless.”

“An offer of peace is given only when at war. We are not at war, Enmity. Nor is my dominion in conflict with yours. As for it being harmless. No interference is totally harmless. I wish you well in all endeavors, my brother. And know that you have my solemn oath: mana will never break the laws of nature. But I cannot give you more.” Qael’Naath said as he rose up again from the sands and went back to the tree he was adapting. Perhaps it should be a bit taller so it could offer a bit more shade for the future tea pavilion.

Enmity wheezed, “Very well,” letting the island drift away from him. Once the island vanished over the horizon, he got to work. His tear in reality flew over the anchor mountains, where he had previously worked, and plans began to form. Divine power rippled through the air as stones formed from nothing, fizzling into the air as power coalesced into being.

The stones stacked upon each other in the air, slowly building up from thin, needlelike foundations at the bottom. Melded together, they sturdily held their ground against both the violent winds and the weight of the stones above them. Layer upon layer went on, the creation taking shape. A castle of white, floating in the air, suspended upon thin needles that pushed against the gravity of Galbar, Enmity still felt as though it required something.

With consideration, Enmity brought forth into existence great plates of jade, layering them atop a number of the towers, doming them in. Topped with needles same to those on the bottom, they both provided beauty as well as stability. Then, entering the castle itself, Enmity got to work. Furniture was placed and banners of the great machine placed.

Once Enmity was finished, the castle was practical, if sparse. It floated, suspended in the air, devoid of occupants. The god then began work on the second part of the project. A ball of divine energy burst into existence, slowly beginning to compress itself down. Inside, gravity wavered and air heated.

Enmity stressed over the details, molding the gravity slowly and exactly. Sparks of electricity emerged, forced by the hard gravitational forces down the path of least resistance. Hundreds of thousands of small gravitational routes, quickly growing to millions. Growing constantly more complex.

Carefully, knowledge was carved into these routes. Words of the original lifeblood, physical law, and the universal constant. Wants carefully calibrated and convictions steeled, the core of the being was programmed to what Enmity required. Finally, once the creature had come to be, all it required was a name. Enmity slashed it into the routes of the core.

Then the ball of divine energy dissipated. Two invisible eyes swivelled to the castle, then to the tear in reality.

“Jehudiel,” Enmity wheezed, the voice booming across the being, “you know why you were created. I entrust you with our universal constant.”

The creature of gravitons and ions racked its mind, and knew that Enmity was right. It understood, implicitly, and with a husky voice insignificant to its creator, spoke, “I will not fail the universal constant.”

A hacking grind of cogs, then a rasp, “You will not do it alone. I will create you a hundredfold, to your specifications, for I trust your judgement. This castle is yours. Enter, and learn its halls. When you are ready, come to the highest tower. There I will create your council.”

The creature, whose existence was only visible through the fogging of air reacting against gravitational drop offs, and the ever present sparking glow of electricity, dipped its head in acknowledgement and assent. The air violently shimmered as it flew into the castle.

For hours it explored the castle, coming to understand the winding halls and passages, the defenses, and the inner workings. It arranged the furniture to its liking, and inspected banners with eye for detail and an appreciation. It learned how the castle held itself aloft, and it learned how to make the castle move.

Then it came to the uppermost atrium, from there the uppermost tower. Looking out across the mountains, Enmity’s tear in reality awaited Jehudiel. It turned to look at the creature expectantly. Jehudiel began to instruct, “I do not want sycophants. I want the brilliant, and the shrewd. I should not rule by fiat, but by worthiness, and should I grow stagnant, I wish that any one of them be capable of taking my place.”

Ringed about the castle, the balls of divine energy compressed and began to work tirelessly. Jehudiel continued, “Experience and competition will be the crucible through which the best of us all shall rule, and they should not be afraid to compete. This is what I wish for.”

The balls of divine energy ratcheted, as Enmity wheezed, “What you wish will be granted.” Jehudiel looked out upon the forming siblings, holding back a welling of pride. Then, the balls of divine energy burst. Jehudiel’s species was born. The god wheezed, “I shall leave you to them. You will have to teach them what I have given you.”

---

Once more the Lifeblood roiled with an irrepressible intent to create.

This ball that had once been barren and cold was now teeming with life, dusted with many a color, as the entities that had set to the task of creation fulfilled their duties and desires with ambition, curiosity and confidence. The Lifeblood knew these things, but it did not possess them. Creation as a process was a proven success now, and what remained was improving on the formula. Creating new and useful matter that would interact with Creation as a whole.

It was with this mindset among all its spread focal points that the energies directing the Lifeblood once more found focus on the northern half of Toraan. Beyond the prairie made by the Bright One, and the tear-born wetlands, it was a vast and empty wasteland of rock, dust and dirt. Few plants would ever grow here. No living entities would find solace in the dust. That would not stand. Not for long.

In an instant the energies that encircled reality burst with creative force, though no true innovation. From the Bright One’s creation, it drew and expanded a massive grassland to cover the wastes and push away the dust with blades of grass. From the Stone One’s creation, it drew from the ground itself – the fresh grassland rippled and cracked as the very ground shifted violently, raising sheer cliffs in places and merely raising hills in others. Two cliffs twisted on their side and grew tall and mighty, piercing into the sky in imitation of the Anchor’s peaks: though neither nearly as tall. From the Vegetation One it took trees, distributed in dense pine and leaf forests wherever they could take root.

Finally, it drew from the Water one, and from within the new peak of the southern mountain rippled a source of water, pushing through the rock with massive force, splitting open both an entrance to a cave within and creating a tall waterfall. A new spring deep within the rock would supply fresh water. The water fell free and began to pool, and slowly began to cascade over the uneven land. It filled into a small lake beneath the mountain, then slowly meandered towards the faraway ocean.

The Lifeblood would not let it struggle and carved a small path when the water came to a standstill. The nascent river rushed forwards for hundreds of meters before being blocked once more. Once more the Lifeblood assisted, allowing the river to choose its own direction towards the ocean – with minimal aid to get it moving. So, the cycle continued until the considerable river snaked all the way from south to north, where it flowed out into the ocean in a large estuary. It was a wide river, given free berth over the landscape, and its path was broken up many a time by waterfalls. But it had reached its goal, and therefore so had the Lifeblood.

The landscape was finished, but beyond the roar of intermittent waterfalls, it was quiet. Empty. It required the interaction of breathing, moving creatures. Once more the Lifeblood drew from the creations of the other entities. It had seen the creation of the sea serpents and determined to copy the design. From the matter of creation countless meter-long serpents crawled out of the wood and stone nestled in the hillsides, speckled black and green and blue in various patterns. These predators would hunt with fang and crawl among the trees and waters. It borrowed the designs of other entities, replicating small mammals and insects to populate the woodlands.

Now the goal had truly been reached. The act of creation had been furthered. With that, the roiling focus of the Lifeblood moved on.