He was one and yet he was many. He had no arms but he held all there was within himself. It was a strange existence, and he had no idea when exactly he had figured out that he could think and feel, but try as he might he could not bring himself to separate from the others. He was stuck… Or maybe it was him that was holding the others back.

That is, until It happened.

Searing pain enveloped him. It burned him and everything around him, all that he could touch shivered and shied away. Had he a mouth, he would’ve screamed and cried out in pain. Then there was a shockwave.

All That Wasn’t reeled and shattered into a billion trillion pieces and the fabric of the emptiness he had come to call home tore, and through those tears leaked in a divine and primordial energy.



Before, he had believed himself to be a shapeless pool. Now, it felt like his true body was stuck in that pool, a pool of mud that wanted to drag him to its depths and devour him. He swam with all his might until he broke through the surface, and then there he was.

From what he could tell, half his body was still in the pool, but he was oh so very tired from his effort and now that he wasn’t being pulled down anymore, he didn’t see much reason to exert himself. Sloth took a deep breath of…

Nothing?

There was nothing.

No air, no light, no sky, no space, no time.

There was nothing, and yet there was something. At the centre of all emptiness hovered a single entity that took on the form of a scroll. It called to him, ordering him to fill it with power. He was tired and he really didn’t feel like doing anything, but his will eroded the longer he stared at the Khodex. In the end, he groaned and did as he was asked. He focused and released the energy he’d just been empowered by, allowing the scroll to absorb it all. It pulsed.

The scroll, which he instinctively knew was the Khodex of Creation, then hummed and exploded with light. The sound was deafening, and the shockwave immediately reached every corner of the Great Void.



The Khodex was calling for more. It was forcing them out of their tiny hiding spots, dragging them from other worlds, and carelessly forcing the birth of new stewards like him. There’d be more, many more, and Sloth felt them stirring. It is what it is, he thought, and then went to sleep as he floated in the Void.

---

Vast intractable emptiness, a void, the cosmic womb. That endless vacuum of space--the Unrealm--it was begging... begging to become a crucible, begging to be anything.

Then...it happened.

A flash against the black.

A spark of Azure light and the faint iridescence of an orange-white flare. Then the very fabric of space warped and twisted around that solitary point, and pent up energy became a brilliant white-hot singularity.

The world snapped and from that release of tension, something pure was borne into the world.

Two, four, eight, nine appertures opened, and they gazed upon the world, the eyes of a formless god. The Is to its Un.


Thunderous were the first words of that deity and from them Power emanated, scorching the empty heavens in a brilliant nebula.

Then the coalescence, the gathering of subtle energies and raw etherium. The eyes closed and like a hurricane-force inhalation, all that power was drawn up into a shape, and that shape was his silhouette, and that silhouette was his form.

So formed the True Shape of the Cosmic Breathe upon the Empty Waters of the once-still Void.

"Soon," Alari whispered.

Soon it would be time.

Sooner, in fact, than she’d believed. Gaze turning as pulsing waves of intention washed over her from afar, Mae-Alari’s shifting faceless visage caught the impression of a blazing light in the distance.

A gasp of arcana spilled from her form, vibrating through the emptiness and then she was an iridescent lightning bolt, flashing from her birthplace to that blazing light in the darkness of the nascent cosmos.

In an instant she arrived before what—instantly—she knew to be the Khodex of Creation. While she sensed other powers nearby, Mae-Alari found herself utterly entranced by the shining pages of the codex. It was begging to be filled, calling to her, beckoning the power that writhed and sang within her.

She barely knew herself, yet somehow Mae understood what it called her to do.

She touched the Codex and as her body made contact with the Khodex, the world around them changed.

Her power spilled forth, writhing and becoming sigils upon the parchment most divine. At the same time fissures of power spread like cracks in glass across the cosmos. Glowing with prismatic light, the Veins of the Cosmos were born into the world by her Will and the power of the Codex.

With this, she felt the writhing power within her form begin to still and as it did her form slowly began to change as features resolved upon her visage. Still, it would take time for them to fully resolve, and so with great patience and curiosity, she waited.

It came to pass that, beneath the darkness that preceded the world, there was a golden lake, glittering and hot. The mists of blackness drifted above it, and a gentle current rippled below. This lake had no shore, no source, and no bed, for it led to itself in every which way, surface to surface and depth to depth.

And this lake had no name, for it was yet to be called into being. For indeed, although it seemed not so, this lake of warm gold was the Sun, the nameless Sun, the Sun that was to be.

And it came to pass that the veil was pierced, and a strong and wizened Hand reached out through the tear that It had made, through the black mist and over the lake of gold whose light rolled gently on Its knuckles and palm. On that Hand was borne an ancient ring of iron, and around Its sinewy wrist an unmarked silver band. It descended down towards the lake of warm gold with its fingers outstretched, in the sign of the Hand of Mysteries.

And on the very fingertip of the Hand was pushed forth a Seed, which plunged into the lake of sparkling gold. Deep, deeply did the Hand push down that seed, planting it on the very heart of the Sun that was to be, where the warm current rippled and the gold-orange light of the lake washed it all around.

And then the deft Hand did withdraw from the lake of the nameless Sun, and was dripping in hot gold, gold that ran in gilded rivulets down the length of Its forearm and wrist and fingers. Without spilling a single drop, the Hand rose out of the black mist that lay over the lake of warm gold, and bent towards the Scroll that lay in the centre of all things that were to come. And with the gold that flowed down Its fingertip and onto the sharp trim nail of Its index finger, the Hand began to write:



And when the wizened Hand had written this curse upon the Scroll, there was not a drop of gold remaining upon It. So It withdrew through the veil from whence It had come, and the veil was sewn shut from within; only one stitch was left undone, such that it might be unpicked and opened again in time.

And the seed that had been sown in the lake of warm gold grew like a worm in a nut, unseen.

And the name of that seed was written on the Scroll, and the name of the curse, for they were one, and the same.

And the name on the scroll was Itzala.

"Wow!"

Deep within an unknown universe, Galaxor,The God Of Heroes, The Hero Maker, Divine Artisan of Heroes, Celestial Forger of Legendary Champions, Master of Heroic Destinies, Architect of Heroism and Valor, Weaver of Epic Tales, Cosmic Mentor of Heroic Prodigies, The Legendary Enabler of Greatness, Creator of Champions, The Mythweaver, The Cosmic Patron of Heroic Aspirations, The Celestial Architect of Legendary Deeds, emerged amidst a cosmic battleground. Unearthly horrors, nightmarish entities that defied comprehension, slithered and writhed in the interstellar darkness.

With a blinding "Zzwap!" Galaxor's gauntlet emitted a burst of radiant energy, obliterating the first cosmic horror that dared to draw near.

A colossal, tentacled abomination approached with menacing intent. In a dazzling display of dexterity, Galaxor evaded its grasp and countered with a "Zing!" from his cosmic blade, cleaving through the creature's eldritch form.

Drawing on his divine powers, he summoned a brilliant burst of starlight, momentarily stunning the cosmic horrors. He seized the moment to deliver a resounding "Foom!" unleashing a shockwave that sent these nightmarish entities sprawling across the astral plane.

In this unfathomable universe, Galaxor's unwavering heroism blazed brightly, defending reality itself from the eldritch terrors with each "Zzwap", "Zing" and "Bling."

Eventually nothing remained. The horrors were dead and the mortal creatures that lived there came out to greet and thank Galaxor.

Raising two of his mighty hands to quiet their murmuring, he flashed them a charming smile. So charmful that the very air seemed to shimmer in his presence, as if even the elements themselves couldn't resist the allure of the God of Heroes. His charismatic aura drew the mortal even more, like moths to a flame, weaving a spell of admiration and devotion around all who gazed upon him.

“HA! HA! HA! HA! Wooo! That fight! You’ve seen it for yourself! Now that’s how it’s done! I hope you took notes. That’s how Galaxor,The God Of Heroes, The Hero Maker, Divine Artisan of Heroes, Celestial Forger of Legendary Champions, Master of Heroic Destinies, Architect of Heroism and Valor, Weaver of Epic Tales, Cosmic Mentor of Heroic Prodigies, The Legendary Enabler of Greatness, Creator of Champions, The Mythweaver, The Cosmic Patron of Heroic Aspirations, The Celestial Architect of Legendary Deeds fights! That’s how a HERO fights! That's how a fight should be fought! Now, I need a big jug of…" shouted Galaxor, his voice like thunder before something called to him.

"Come"

A single word. A strong command.

Looking away towards the general area where the calling came, Galaxor laughed out loud. Pinning the mortal around him to the ground with the sound of his voice.

"Forget about that. A calling has been issued. A heroes' journey never ends. A hero can never rest! Goodbye mortals! Remember this fight for the rest of your lives. ” said Galaxor, before jumping high up into the air, travelling at the speed only known to divinity.

Arriving at the scene of the birth of a universe, Galaxor took a deep breath and laughed upon seeing the scroll of the Khodex.

“Ohoho! You’ve called me, little thing? Very well. I, Galaxor,The God Of Heroes, The Hero Maker, Divine Artisan of Heroes, Celestial Forger of Legendary Champions, Master of Heroic Destinies, Architect of Heroism and Valor, Weaver of Epic Tales, Cosmic Mentor of Heroic Prodigies, The Legendary Enabler of Greatness, Creator of Champions, The Mythweaver, The Cosmic Patron of Heroic Aspirations, The Celestial Architect of Legendary Deeds, have answered your call. Here! Take some speck on my power and make my wishes known within this universe. All shall rejoice when heroes walk the world. All shall learn from GALAXOR! HA! HA! HA! HA! ”

Emptiness. Silence. Suddenly space trembled as a whisper of motion overtook the fabric of space and time, and a crack began to form; seemingly as though the Universe itself was tearing at its seams, a rift slowly materialized, emanating an aura of timelessness. Then, with force just as powerfull as it was silent, an unassuming boulder was expelled from within. This wasn’t just any rock, no, for it hailed from a realm where time danced to a different rhythm, a place beyond the very boundaries of this Universe, a time before Time.

As the boulder settled into its new reality, the difference in the flow of time began to take its toll. The once solid rock quickly began to crumble into dust, each grain breaking down further into finer and finer particles until there was nothing left, vanishing into nothingness and leaving behind only a single spherical stone. Its surface was dull, resembling the color of rusted iron and giving off an ancient, almost indescribable aura.

Just a few moments after being freed from its encasing, this solitary relic began a dance of its own. Slowly at first, it spun, gaining momentum with each passing moment. As its speed increased, a mesmerizing display unfolded: the stone's color shifted, a rapid kaleidoscope of hues, growing brighter and more radiant. Very quickly, the speed of its rotation became almost blinding, and its once dull appearance now emanated an iridescent light so bright, it would appear white to any and all onlookers.

But the dance was not over.

As the stone vibrated intensely, ripples began to spread, disturbing the very fabric of the Universe. And then, with a suddenness that was almost jarring, the stone cracked, coming to a dead stop. It transformed, its hue deepening into a rich gold, and then began to disintegrate just as the boulder had. Yet, this time, the shimmering particles remained. They seemed drawn, as if by a magnetic force, to a certain point in space within the Universe. And so they flowed, forming a river of radiant, liquid gold that wormed its way through the emptiness of the void-in-between. The river sought its caller - just like how water will always find its way onto the sea - and indeed soon enough, it had found it: the Khodex of Creation.

The moment the river of gold made contact with it, the particles within began to weave themselves into the fabric of the mysterious scroll. Text, deep gold in color and unintelligible in meaning, began to form onto divine parchment; clauses, laws, and edicts that would dictate the inner workings of the new Universe were being indelibly set. Decorations, flourishes, and mystical symbols adorned the newly formed section, and once the final particle was absorbed, the Universe shuddered, and the words "Astral Realm" appeared boldly above the mysterious text.

The Khodex quivered, the sheer potential of this addition causing it to phase in and out of existence for a split second before settling back into its previous, static position. Simultaneously, a new, parallel dimension came to being - not as a reflection, but a shadowy echo of reality. At that moment, it was equally as empty, however that would not be the case for much longer.

The light of the Khodex spilled out into empty cosmos, twisting and spiraling within the darkness flitting along the shockwaves of creation being borne inexorably into the darkness. Yet even this light, scattered and broken along the darkness as it was, felt the pull of the first word and command of the universe that issued out into the darkness.

Come

The light wavered at this first of commands, its scattering stopping even as the force of the shockwaves would have carried them forward. It hung there writhing in its own inaction that to it seemed necessary for reasons it could not begin to articulate. So it was that in this inaction did the light begin to condense, at first it was simple small motes of light no larger than flitting spots that began to collect and rub against another, then more and more strands and treads of the scattered light were drawn to this condensation. Faster and faster were they drawn to this now central point of light, brighter and brighter did they get, and as they did a new feeling spread across the light.

Heat.

As they drew into and upon themselves the light was growing hotter and hotter, and as it grew hotter the light grew brighter and brighter. Soon this nucleus of gathered light and heat began to cast off tendrils of itself that searched for purchase in the darkness but finding none fell back into the whole. Still it collected light, and still did that light create heat, a self fueling system that continued on and on until the light had consumed itself totally into the nucleus.

Finally a last scrap of light, perhaps even the smallest of them all, came to hang above the roiling nucleus of heat and light. Slowly did it spiral down to the surface of the thing, and lightly did it touch it. And in that instance did the nucleus tear and split open in roaring explosion, turning in on itself as it condensed further in the new inferno. The new form that emerged new its name as well as it knew the roar of its previous self, Anat'aa.

Laughing and embracing herself as the fire of the nucleus finally fully fell into her did she dance in the darkness, the sound of her laughter echoing like that first explosion in the dark, sparks flew from her as she did but dutifully came back to her as she danced. But her revelry was cut short as the second command issued out, more insistent, less to be ignored.

So did Anat'aa return to the Khodex, her smile as broad as her light as she looked upon the scroll. Reaching out her hand wisps of fire curled out to touch and inscribe upon the codex the knowledge of itself and her. The words appeared where the wisps touch, burned into the scroll with a delicate hand. So did Anat'aa inscribe her essence into the scroll, and in doing so was nothing spared from the changing touch of fire that none that know its caress are left the same.

Vacuums are not, in-fact, empty.

Within a solar vacuum, there are still five atoms in every cubic cm. In interstellar space, one. In the space between galaxies, a hundred times less than that, yet still there were atoms.

Here, in the endless nothingness that law stretched to its breaking point, and yet, in all of non-existence, there had still been three. Only three. Three insignificant remainders of the world that had been, drawn together over an eternity by their minuscule amounts of gravity, huddling together in the dark.

Had was also the key word there, because the eternal stillness had ended. Gods came or were born, and they stirred all that wasn’t, injecting energy, injecting motion. And they set those three atoms spinning. Twirling. Combining. And as they turned they gathered the dust shed by the newcomers till they were wearing a shell the size of a coin.

The coin rolled through non-existence till it bumped into the thing that had drawn the newcomers here. The Khodex. It bounced, landed on the page, and began rolling in spirals, imprinting that shape upon the parchment of reality. At first, it was random, uncontrolled, but as the power they had gathered was used, the atoms at the same time came to truly take it into themselves rather than wear it, and as they began to wield it in different ways they understood that while they where one, they were not the same.

The coin warped, center forming into three smaller disks, and then out from these disks purposeful rods extended till they reached the still circular edge of the coin.

No.

Not a coin.

They were a wheel, and wheels spun with purpose.

What had been merely a force of motion became a force of will, as wandering spirals became a single perfect circle. One spoke was pleased with this, wishing to spin forever, and yet at the same time the other two wished for change. One broke the cycle. Then the other sent them rolling off till they found somewhere else to start spinning anew.

And then just as the first was getting used to this new circle, they broke away again. Then again. Over and over until suddenly it became clear that they had, in breaking the circle, simply formed a larger circle out of the smaller ones.

In that brief moment they basked in the harmony of this moment, before the two broke them away from this circle of circles and began spinning anew all over again.

They danced this dance across the Khodex and in doing so covered the parchment in circles until the breaker decided they were done. The three spoked wheel bounced off of the void again, having set the universe spinning.

In time those circles would cause seasons to bloom, worlds to shift from day to night and back, and all the celestial bodies in the heavens to play out a cosmic carousel, forever spinning until, on day, it would all come to an end again, and everything would start anew once more.

“So, now what?” asked one, the maker, spoke as it set them rolling to one side

“Now we wait. Patience is key” said another, the maintainer, as it stabilized that roll into an orbit of the Khodex

“Wait and see what these lovely strangers do next” said the third, the breaker, as it watched and waited, ready to break the orbit when the opportune time came.

“Oh, oh, and then we can put our own spin on things!” the maker cheerfully declared, bringing the conversation full circle and giving them purpose anew.

This is what is known. They coasted along a night-lit highway, the worlds-that-were scattered below in wondrous splendor. Ahead, swad in colors which they could recall the words for but chose not to, heavens curved to a horizon where the birds and the rivers were made of sound. The people in this world were beautiful, woven from constantly singing superstrings. Then it was over, dopplering in their wake and scattered across its moorings. At one point it had been considered to eliminate pain, replacing it with something less distracting. But pain was a message, and its removal carried the danger of apparent immortality. The best to be done was to make it less debilitating, but its form was at the far end of nuclear and every half-imaginary nerve was punching through the filters.

At the edge of the worlds, where creation was built upon creation, it was about dimension. One degree of freedom over your opponent, and there was no contest at all. Theirs fell fifteen to be here. Their people played with meaning in their infancy, and could literally alter morality in their favor, but where this thing came from, their creation was nothing but a tiny circle that could be crushed between its fingers. If it had any mind, any thought at all, it would have been over in an instant. But it was only firepower, bristled and brought to bear with reckless abandon.

Heavens exploded curveward and rimward, worlds-that-were reduced to never-were as defensive projections scattered. Here, an opening, a space from which to fight. It roared uncaringly, tendrils engaged in every direction, leveling nearby scenery. They were able to cut loose with their counter-attacks, and for a moment even began to win: With exhaustion setting in, it was not winning, however, but stalling. Something had to give, or it would be the end.

”Come.”

Its options were vanishing quickly. Paradoxically, that left but one true option; take what was proffered. A path cleared in its mind, and it grabbed its enemy by the tail and began to accelerate. Secondary and tertiary skins flushed away in white-hot agony as both of them raced towards the border. All it had was rage and more brandished firepower than its entire civilization combined, but it had thought and purpose. It reached up and heaved the thing by the tail, sacrificing its hind legs to blow it off-course. The tear was directly ahead, and it – creation was torn violently asunder, darkness closed in on every side. It fell, disconnected from its senses. It did not feel or see the gap close behind it and the worlds-that-were recede, and for a moment there was absolute silence, all the panic gone, all the alarms silenced.

That moment brought composure. It had not been noticed yet; a world-that-could-be, before time and before creation. Ahead, behind, always at the front of its vision, the scroll. It approached with caution; here are others, ready to perceive that which was not ready to be seen. As it curled around the scroll, its purpose became clear. Here, the chance for creation. It was trapped, far from its people, safe yet imprisoned. Already, it yearned to return, and here could be written the bedrock of its efforts.

Information was power. In its infancy, it played with meaning, and the possession of all truth or mistruth by any would surely doom its efforts. There was but one option; it could escape without knowing the breadth of creation, and so first upon the pyre was the sacrifice of everyone’s omniscience. In a small corner, sandwiched between the larger entries scrawled before it. To everyone, there would be secrets. The currency through which it could manipulate its peers and the universe itself.

A pang of homesickness, so early amongst the eons. Given precisely one eternity, it could have staved off such emotions, but it now had a planck heartbeat. A fit of sorrow, and a familiarity from its home written into the foundations of the world-that-could-be. Information and meaning were to be substance, meaningful building blocks of reality that could be picked up and examined. This, it was less careful with; scrawled larger across the fabric. Then, it clamped down, its moment of weakness over, and emotion purged as a liability. It would never be the same, but such sacrifices were necessary. That it would experience no joy upon arrival home could no longer register in its mind as a great loss.

Finally, its gift to itself more than the world-that-could-be; grant the thing, the interloper secrets, and in return creation would grant wonders. Here it placed its benefit into the laws of reality, drawn between the margins of another’s writing. Such a boon was a luxury, and less likely to be rejected if it was the only one; it stopped itself from continuing, and realized it would have to make do with the advantage it had given itself, and not a small one at that. It retreated from the scroll, and hid itself in the non-space from the others.

---

Somewhere from the depths of the inky black void there was a being that slept a peaceful sleep. It did not think, it did not feel. It was merely there and not there, existing in a paradoxical state of being and not being. That was to be its existence until a faint glimmer of light shone upon the formless being, slowly but surely rousing it from its slumber. The infinite darkness and pleasant nothingness was gently yet deliberately pushed away by the encroaching veins of gently glowing light. At first the formless being simply shied away from the light, much like a dreamer rolling in their sleep to avoid the coming of dawn, but as the gentle veins of light continued their relentless expanse there eventually came a point where the formless being could ignore it no more.

It was within this moment that a shape coalesced, rousing itself from the warm darkness of sleep and turning its attention to the invading light. There, in the random chaos that dictated the spread of these veins of light the formless being found itself looking down a pathway. The pathway warped and changed and arced in random ways but still yet formed itself into a coherent tunnel. It was through this tunnel, not a moment after it formed, that the shapeless being felt a great pulse echo throughout the glimmering void. A great pulse that carried with it a single instruction: “Come.”

Wrapping itself in comfortable darkness like one might embrace the warmth of a used blanket on a cold morning, the formless being began to follow the path. At first there was mere curiosity that brought it along the path, but soon the shapeless being began to feel a tight clinging sensation as it started to brush along the glowing veins. The pathway was shifting, as it always did, but it was also constricting. It bound the formless being like the realization that the sheets it was using for warmth were tucked tightly and would not be pulled across the domain as desired. Something would have to go, or perhaps here would be a good place to simply resume resting? But then what of the instruction? Surely it would be rude to leave it incomplete?

Looking around itself, the formless being elected to try and push ahead, and as it did the formless found itself being formed. At first things were quite abstract, a head upon a neck to look around a corner, an arm formed in need of something to push aside an obstruction, but as the shapeless being neared what seemed to be the end of this twisting passage it felt another tug upon its being. Looking down upon itself the formless being saw that it was no longer as formless as it once was, and beneath the roiling cloth of darkness there lay a form that would not be denied. The moment the formless being beheld the body that had been made she knew herself, and within that moment of knowing herself the rest of her form coalesced within an instant. A beautiful form, fit to hold the cosmic mind that had previously existed without confine. But as the roiling cloth of darkness faded away the formed being found itself quite cold and exposed without its protection. Grabbing at the fleeing tendrils of shadow the formed being wove them into a garment around her body, something to keep herself warm and protected.

After a few moments, or was it days? Weeks perhaps? She could not know, the formed being beheld herself within the dress that she had made, and smiled. This would do quite nicely. Looking up at the receding tendrils of shadow the formed being watched as it arced away into forever. She could not deny that she wanted to follow them back to where it had all began, to return to comfort she both knew and did not know, but after just a moment's temptation a hardy resolve gripped her mind: She had been awakened from her slumber and summoned for some reason that was as of yet unknown to her. This would not be something that she simply allowed to happen without some form of answer given as to why.

Thus the formed being watched for just a moment as the last tendrils of comforting shadow slipped away, and all that she once knew was lost, never to be known again as the ever shifting path reformed itself once more, erasing what was once her home. A twinge of bitter regret flowed through her mind, but as it left the formed being was left with naught but clarity and resolve. Turning to the untrodden path the formed being lifted her foot from the nothingness that made up the floor and stepped forward into the vast unknown… Or at least she would’ve, if she did not promptly trip. Landing face down on solid nothingness the formed being let out a soft groan before bringing her hands up and pushing firmly against the solid nothingness that made up the “floor” that she walked upon.

Gracefully landing on her feet once more, the formed being looked down at herself and attempted to walk again. This time she noticed how the restrictive nature of her skirt caught her legs and frowned. Snapping her fingers, the formed being caused a long slit to take form upon the left side. Attempting to walk once more, the formed being smiled as she tripped no longer. Once more stepping forward, the formed being walked the untrodden path to its end, and as she stepped out of the ever-changing weave of gently glowing veins she beheld before her a scroll, floating in the infinite space that permeated the reality around her.

Letting out a gentle hum, the formed being stepped over to it before gently reaching out a hand. There was a brief moment of hesitation when she began to feel an intense vibration in her fingers as they drew close, but once this moment passed the formed being moved quickly to snatch it out of the nothingness that it floated in. It brought a pleasant warmth to her hands, and as she opened it to read whatever contents it might’ve had… The formed being found herself tilting her head. The scroll was blank. How? Why? Turning it over and examining the other side, she found that it too was blank.

Well. That certainly made for some underwhelming reading. Perhaps she could fix that? Temporarily rolling the scroll back up the formed being moved over towards one of the gently glowing veins and sat down close to it. Unrolling the scroll once more, the formed being reached out and began to gently prod at the vein. It pulsed and writhed at her touch, but the formed being continued to prod at it, each time increasing the force behind her action until finally, with a sharp arc downward, the formed being drove a nail into the vein.

Her hand was consumed with warmth as the raw energy of creation spilled out like a thick ink, gently oozing through the small hole that the formed being had made. Leaning over to catch the light from the rest of the vein, the formed being brought her wet fingers up to the blank scroll and began to carefully write. The shapes that formed were at first alien and unknown, even to her, but as she continued to write a pattern began to emerge, and soon thereafter the formed being could read what she had written as natural as she knew her own thoughts. There, glistening in the faint light, was the word Rúnaritari. A name? Perhaps. Her name? Yes.

Twisting the name around in her mind, she found that it fit. Thus the formed being was no more, and in her place was Rúnaritari. Rúna. The scribe of magic. It was in this moment of finally knowing herself in full that Rúna was struck by a bolt of inspiration. Dipping her fingers into her makeshift inkwell with a frantic purpose Rúna began to fill it with dozens of these shapes of her own creation. These… These… Runes. A play on her own name. Yes, that would work fine. Writing faster and faster into the scroll, Rúna’s hand became coated in layers and layers of ink as she released every thought and emotion that coalesced within her mind onto the scroll.

So frenzied was her writing that she did not notice the early runes beginning to vanish. Seeing only blank space to write upon Rúna merely continued to fill it with anything and everything that came to mind. As she continued to write, her writing grew more and more refined. Where once she had written sloppy abstractions of runes now came refined arcs and understandable lines. But then a brief distraction came in the fact that her inkwell had run dry. Looking to the makeshift inkwell with an intense scowl, Rúna noted that the primal ink that she had been stealing was ebbing away from where she had pierced the vein. Knowing that her work was incomplete, Rúna set the scroll aside briefly before digging her fingers into the opening greedily. Pulling the vein further open, Rúna smiled as she felt the warm ink of creation flow past her hands once more. Using one hand to keep the vein open, Rúna plunged her arm into the depths of the ink, eager to steal away enough to finish her work. Pulling it free, Rúna released her grip upon the vein and resumed writing, scribbling rune after rune once more. This process was repeated two times more, and by the end of her frenzy Rúna had written everything she knew about these runes into this scroll, which would be all that would ever be known.

Smiling at her handiwork, Rúna held the scroll aloft gleefully, and only just now noticed the destroyed nature of her sleeve. It was soaked and stiff and uncomfortable to wear, and as such Rúna elected to simply be rid of it. Gripping it firmly she tore it free, and it was here that she noticed the state of her arm. The glowing veins of power writhed beneath it, settling themselves into a new means of carrying ink, or was it blood? Nevermind, to her freshly grown talons. Looking to her other hand, she saw there that her fingers were forever stained by the remnants of ink that had flown over them as she held the vein open. Looking down at herself, she saw various other markings and tattoos adorned not only her dress, but herself. Had she done that? She didn’t recall, but they were a part of her now, and she didn’t mind them.

Desiring a mirror, Rúna sank her corrupted hand into the vein one last time before slathering a thick layer of ink across the nothingness that she sat upon. Looking down into it, Rúna was slightly shocked to see half of her face covered in the ink she had been using. But then she recalled her feverish plunge into the vein, and the splash of ink that it had caused without her knowing about it… Yes, that would explain a great deal of things. Scratching at the top of her head, Rúna simply shrugged before she felt a great pain overtake the top of her skull. Grabbing her head and groaning, Rúna felt a pair of great antlers grow from herself. A last effect of her thievery from the vein.

When the change finished, Rúna was as she would be for quite a time. Looking over her body once more, Rúna shrugged. Oh well. At the very least this meager corruption would be worth the great deal of knowledge that she had poured into the scroll. Picking up the document once more, Rúna looked down at it… Only to find it blank. How? Why? Did it not like the vastness of the information she had been gracious enough to give it!? Rolling the scroll up and tossing it, Rúna let it float into the void to be found by someone else.

Bothersome thing.

Chaos. Energy. Countless colours jittering and writhing amongst themselves. Dots of prismatic wrath clipped through one another as they bolted back and forth throughout the maddening plane. The turmoil rolled over itself again and again without any seeming end.

Suddenly, a call sounded through the chaos, reverberating through the thick soup of colour. Its noise sending the dots into a frenzy as they vibrated with a growing intensity. They darted around, beginning to smash into one another, consuming their forms in furious explosions. From them shot prismatic shards that collided with each other, causing more and more explosions. The energy began to collect, driving together by the explosions, twisting itself into something that could be more akin to a shape.

One final explosion erupted amongst the primordial colours, sending a cascade of shifting change throughout the energy. In its wake the energy had ever so slightly calmed, it still jittered and clipped amongst itself, but now it was in a more identifiable shape, with limbs and shapes more like a standing creature. With its shape now formed, the Chaos had begun to think as well. It still felt that call that had caused it to emerge, it knew what it needed to do.

It raised one of its hands, pressing it up against the void that sat all around it. It knew it just needed to jitter at just that right point and-

Success! Its hand popped through the void, now just to get the rest of itself through. Its jittering let it continue to clip beyond the void, slowly pushing the rest of its arm past, giving it an in to pop past the barrier and enter into where it was being summoned. And it was, yet another void, wonderful.

It looked around in all directions, trying to find the source of what had called it. Soon enough it did, a scroll that sat silently within the endless void, the scent of other divine beings clearly upon it. With a hop, skip, and jump the Chaos drew closer to the scroll. What did such a tiny piece of paper want with it? It had summoned it forth but, why?

As it stood there contemplating, the Chaos’ attention was drawn elsewhere, towards a shining web that cascaded throughout the endless void. It was certainly a far more beautiful sight than the void. It couldn’t help but stare at the web, trying to find where its veins began and where they stopped.

So lost in thought was it, that it barely noticed its energy begin to drip from its form. Suddenly, it felt a section detach, dropping down upon the scroll that sat right next to it. Staining its pages with a glob of prismatic ink that quickly seeped in. Chaos did not know how to react, and so it merely stepped a few steps away from the scroll. Looking up, it noticed a change amongst the great web, one vein now stood out amongst the rest. Its strain was now an endless shifting array of colours, constantly clipping around the endless void in sudden changes of its path. Frankly it thought it looked much nicer like that.

It looked around once more, well, it had figured out what had called it. So it figured it was done here. It walked away, traveling deeper into the void, it was really hoping there was pie around here. It could really go for some pie.

---

First I was nothing.

And then I was us.

---

They did not know what they had been before. All they could remember were thousands upon millions of different lives, all of which were tiny, all of which were limited - in everything. Scope, scale, size... everything. So tiny, beneath the notice of most creatures, and yet so essential - a critical part of something far beyond their understanding. Then they were pulled. Pulled and slammed together with others of their kind. Their bodies, minds, and essences merged into a single consciousness. New understanding, new awareness, new sensations, and new power filled them.

They briefly took the time to ruminate on what had just happened to them. The creatures which had been amalgamated together - were they still alive? Yes. Their bodies now made up the new form. And their minds... the minds had not been deleted. No, they had been unified. Unified to create...

...them. Whatever they were. They weren't quite sure, as they buzzed around in that void - somehow able to persist despite the lack of resources. A lack of resources. Hm. That was a problem. Someone should fix that. Then, the many eyes of their many forms settled upon the Khodex, and a sudden understanding dawned. They were meant to fix it. For they had the power to do so, and they had been called here. Somehow, they knew what this 'Khodex' was, despite having no reason to.

They surged forward. They took only a moment to peruse what the others had written, and then the many buzzing creatures which made up their form began to land upon the Khodex. They pressed themselves into the parchment, leaving imprints of their shapes. No words were written, but the intent was clear. The world that was to be created would have many components, but even the smallest components could be vital. And even the smallest creatures could achieve great things when amassed in sufficient quantity. Whatever form this world would take, it would need caretakers, and by imprinting these shapes into the Codex, they had ensured what form these caretakers would come in, while also providing templates to create more.

And in doing so, they had made themselves indispensable, for they understood these creatures like no other. After all, they were these creatures. The Others had no reason to harm them, and now had every reason to work with them.

The thought of 'Others' made something stir within them. Although their body and mind were the amalgamation of countless beings, they only had one consciousness. One understanding. And their awareness of this fact brought a sudden pang of loneliness. They needed to meet these 'Others.' Immediately.

And with that thought they began buzzing off into the void, eager to meet more of their kind.

---

In the great nothingness there resides a great mass that floats adrift. A collection of something before something could be anything. A mass of semi consistency strung across with loose imagination. Smears painted upon a canvas with no light.

But then there was a call.

"Come? Come. Come! We are come!" The oozing mass pulled itself together. It tried to move but found itself unable to stretch freely. "Stuck... Unable... Cannot come...Why?"

The mass floated in silence, shifting around with a patient caress across its bounds. Then- from the darkness of the pit came a red eye. Singular, large, and curious. It peered through the gaps between which held the mass together and it thought long and hard. "Cannot come... But must..."

It floated there, unsure of what to do. It looked left, dragging the mass effortlessly. There was more of the dark. Then he looked right and there was more of the dark. He looked up, then down, then away, then afar, then he spun around in circles until he came to stop. He was trapped. It was a cage- a ball of some kind with gaps between.

"Must... become..." He stared at the cage, glancing to the codex that was so far away. The eye pressed against the cage, but it found little speed. He looked around, unsure. But then a thought came and he looked to himself.

"Will... become." From the mass came vague shapes. They were frail and they broke apart, but they did not deter the eye from trying again. The mass extended, grabbing hold of the broken pieces of sparkling magic and returning them to his mass. He thought and thought until the mass pushed once more.

Tendrils. From the mass came tendrils! Thin and lacking color, but capable of grabbing the cage with no door. One and then two. The blazing light of the red eye christened with a corrupted arcane power making it all but invisible to those who knew the unknowable. Eye pressed against cage and tendrils pushed the cage away. "This one... moves."

It repeated its motion. Squish, grab, push. Squish, grab, push. Squish, grab, push. "Must... change..." Stopping, the eye stared at the cage and thought about it with more care. He thought about himself and realized something with little grace. "Can... swim…."

More tendrils formed and they poked through the cage. Once fully out they began to wiggle. No more need to grab and push. Now- they could simply hold on and swim ever so slowly towards the book that was ever so far away.

Attention caught as she felt something moved far beyond the light of Khodex, Mae-Alari turned her attention to the Vast Expanse all around her. Slowly as a force tugged upon the Veins of the Cosmos, and thus her own being, the Goddess found that she could triangulate the mysterious force’s location. “How curious,” she chimed, her voice ringing faintly into the Void.

Then, like a burst of flame through the night, the Arcane Source transmitted herself across the void. In an instant her form slammed into something solid, yet failed to move it. Dispersing into a great cloud of power, it was—for a moment—as if a nebula had formed from the leavings of her vessel. Without eyes she observed the strange phenomena that she’d struck.

Twas a great crimson eye contained within the formless murk composed of an energy familiar to her own. A pulse of delight rippled across the nebula of her form and then she collapsed once more into her primordial shape.

“Kin!” She shouted joyfully and then, with equal vigor—picking up on the slow progress of the deity and the direction of its movement—Mae-Alari stretched out her power and took hold of the cage. “Come!” She chirped and then more seriously she commanded the world.


The fabric of space resonated, the cage shuddered as a powerful vibration passed over the many tendrils and then with great force they were propelled forth towards the glowing beacon of the Khodex. Still, it would take them some time, and in that period Mae-Alari turned her attention to the Crimson Eye.

“Dark Waters, Crimson Gaze, I am Mae-Alari. Do you have a name, brother?”

The burst of energy caused the eye to look around. Something was stirring. Something... familiar... Then as one conscious feeling came to pass another revealed what it was he felt. A burst of magic that could not be mistaken. Yes, it was familiar! Yet what his soul felt he understood, his mind could not think up an answer. It was beautiful all the same. A burst of magic that lit up the sky with endless possibility- but then thoughts flickered to correct. It was no mere phenomenon. It was the arcana itself! "Kin!" It responded, voice rippling with a light underwater effect.

As the cage bursted forward the eye found a great- joy. Something tugged within as though this had occured once before. Remembering that which could not be remembered, or maybe wishing that it could continue. Focus returned to the cage within a short time. The arcane was all around him and the light of that which lay beyond glow and spark with beautiful streaks of light. Eye swirled around, examining the ancient power and wiggling the entire form as endless thoughts began to bombard, broken only by the speech of arcana herself. The eye examined much of her and responded in kind. Mae-Alari... My name... This one... remembers. Yes. But I must become again." The mass shook and the eye flickered, gurgles of struggle a prelude to a sudden change. The thin tendrils of vague shape broke apart and reforged into thicker forms. The mass itself refined its shape and the eye developed a slit. A roar ripped and bursts of magic erupted from his own form before he spoke once more with much longer tendrils pushing out and grabbing at the cage with an evolved form and mind. “I am Vak'thuum. I create change and seek the secrets of that which never was. You are the arcana that weaves the tapestry of creation. Sister, why am I bound by these shackles? Why can I not remember more? Can you?" Within moments after power grasped at the cage and a force pushed upon it. Vak's form glowed in a purple light and the cage was made lighter by his own intervention. He was mimicking her strength to some end, and slowly changing the state of his prison, but never breaking it. A higher frequency echoing from their location as Mae-Alari's magic could now carry them across even faster!

Overjoyed as her strange sibling responded in kind, his voice rumbling through the cosmos, Mae-Alari felt her features subtly shift in kind. Azure Apertures opened upon her face, and the impression of lips split across her features. She smiled, it was filled with delight. “I know not from where we came, Vak’thuum, only that we belong together in this Vast Emptiness where soon something tremendous will arrive!” She could feel it, feel the building power of the Khodex and the intensity of the energies it held within.

It could not contain it all forever.

Cutting across the abyssal pitch of that empty world they made good time on their approach to the brilliant beacon of the Khodex, but as they grew nearer to it, Mae-Alari suddenly felt a great tearing within her breast. Faltering, their speed dwindled, and then the Mistress of the Mists fell to her knees upon her brother’s cage. Sucking in the empty void, a resonant curse shuddered through the Veins of the Cosmos even as she found her body and soul was being wracked by a terrible agony.

She opened her mouth, but could not speak, could not scream, could not draw a further breath. For several long moments, stretched out into an eternity as she felt something pried loose from within her, felt things warp, and shift, and burn away.

Pulses of molten prisma shot through Creation’s Veins as the Arcane Well within her–her very heart–tore and shattered, then reformed. Finally, after many minutes had passed and their movement had slowed to all but a crawl, Mae-Alari felt the agony become a phantom of itself.

Fading into a terrible ache, Mae-Alari unclenched her fingers where they’d curled into her chest, the goddess having coiled into a fetal position atop her brother’s cage.

Letting forth a shuddered breath of arcana, Mae’s azure eyes cast aboutt he Void and saw a twisted figure drift away from the Khodex.

Her arcanic heart twisted in her chest and skipped a beat.

Vak'thuum curiously gazed upon her wonder. Know not where they came. An unsettling remark, but overwhelmed by that of the present. Yes, they belonged here together. That was all that mattered. He was content to fly, perhaps even... happy. Then she seemed to feel- pain. The eye came to stare upon her and within moments long tendrils reached out from their prison. "Sister..." He needed time. He needed to remember... but there was no time for that. Evolve. Change. Become.

A tendril came from the cage. It was different. A sparkling azure blue reflective of her eyes. Unlike the rest of him, this was pure arcana. He pushed his mass through ripping at his form some but eventually evolving his tendril to grow further. It traveled quickly and soon came to brush her hand. Moments later and the tendril slowly coiled around her heart. Small pulses of energy came from the new extension. A numbing magic to ease the pain, a pulse of arcana to correct irregularities in her form, while sharing his feelings. With these magics she could, at least, come to stand and fly without pain. Another tendril came, this one gently prodding at her heart to come and fix any irregularities that had remained.

"I can still your pain for now. Show me your burden and I will repair what has been broken. I will even give you part of me so that you may be whole. We belong together."

Relief slowly eased through her form as she allowed Vak’thuum to ply within her chest and at her heart. Slowly that terrible ache began to ease, though it never fully left her–though it became a specter of its former self. Inhaling power from the Veins and the limb of her brother, Mae-Alari extended once more her potency and pressed them once more towards the pulsing beacon.

“Thank you,” she whispered and in moments they finally arrived. Gingerly she positioned Vak’thuums ponderous cage before the Khodex and once she had secured him, Mae-Alari’s power slipped back inwards and disappeared as she withdrew. Watching closely she studied him, even as another facet of her attention bored into another deific skull.

Though once wounded, Mae knew her power had not diminished. Instead it had merely been changed. What that was she could not yet tell. In time all things would make themselves clear. Until then, she would keep up her guard and remain wary such that next time–if such a thing came–she could act to protect herself.

Relief pulsed through Vak'thuum. Though she was not as she once was, she was now, at least, able to continue. What more could be done? He did not know. There was much he did not know. It burned at him without relenting and frustrated him to no end. Though there may not have been anything of the past he couldn't help but feel like there was. This cannot continue. It evolved, manifesting into something else. If he could not know the answers of the past, he would find the answers of the future and all possibilities therein.

The Khodex was before them in no time. It begged for him to reach it and in that moment he wondered if she had done the same. The great eye looked to his sister and words vibrated from his mass again. "...and thank you." He watched as the power began to leave the settled cage. Felt as she began to leave him. So be it. But he would not leave it be at that. With arcane tendril loosened from her heart he took hold of her arm gently and allowed his tendril to break off with R'kava mass attached to its end. Even if he could not go with her, a part of him would be with her. Always.

He was stronger now, evolving with every passing second and given this chance by his sister. It was impossible to know how long it would have taken to get here without her. Now... to change and become more... His eye retracted back into the mass and it grew incredibly still. Power swirling and pulsing. The great mass began to pull in and incubation would persist until it was as a perfect orb.

The stillness continued for some time until a tendril suddenly broke free from the dark. Longer and breaking apart as it coiled towards the Khodex. It shattered across every crack to reveal its evolution underneath. Exploding in size and function it became a tentacle with the black waters falling back into place and merging with his being once more. No lack of reach as it coiled around the scroll and dripped black ink from the tip of the appendage. Slapping against the parchment a gurgling gave anticipation. Burning through the orb came two red eyes furrowed.

The First Sequence would come to be. Wheresoever the canvas was empty would now have potential to be full. That which was nothing could be something. And life, wheresoever it would be, would find a way.



Tentacle lifted to pause, the bubbling of the mass beginning to slam against the confines of the cage with a deep echoing. Violent and persistent with intensity only growing until the cage began to bend and break! Then, suddenly, an eldritch roar ripped across the cosmos and the great cage broke apart under the strain of the being within. The black waters scattered to the stars and the once simple creature of black mass now floated with a whole form. Titanic, tentacles unending, and inspired to stand with monstrous form. Webbed hand pushing aside and untangling the swarm of appendages holding it in place. One reached and clashed against the unknown until it came crashing upon the Khodex once more. The Second Sequence would find itself upon the Khodex.



Raising webbed claws above and using the Khodex as a conduit a flash of energy exploded across the stars. Touching every bit of the black waters that had escaped his grasp and touching all spaces that were barren. An insurance that his gift would be seen and the great experiment would begin. Tentacles unraveled from the scroll and returned to Vak'thuum.

His mind raced with possibility as one voice became two and two became four. There was much to do and much to try, but he spasmed for a moment and recoiled from the expenditure. "Not yet... There is much more we must do..." He thought, but his eyes flickered all the same. He began to coil tentacles around himself and slowly more and more of the dark waters formed and poured through his pores. Perhaps a nap before the great work was in order...

Reverion

There were a stirring. A twirl in the beyond, an orb of liquid black was taking form, growing and then warping it's appearance, jagged large bonelike pieces sticking out of it and then... skin... feathers of darkest black. A pair of glowing eyes flared open, hidden peeking out from behind the large wall of feathers that almost seem to make a ball, it's eyes wandered as if searching for something. Someone. There was something beckoning him forth, but who or what was it? Who or what were he himself? He existed, of that there were no doubt.

His white pupils gazed into the direction of the scroll, the Khodex.

"Who dares? What dares to call me forth? You beckon, this I do reckon. These eyes of mine sear ye, my wings of pitched black... hear me!"

With a scream the figure's blackened wings parted from it's folded state and revealed his full form rising to stand on two legs.

"My emergence from the dwelling cold, the path to my design it will fold. Revere me, fear me. I am Reverion. I am, that I know. Thus you will and also shall be. Let us walk together in the place between..." Reverion mused softly, his taloned hand reaching out for the scroll.

"I shall carve you, like the path ahead. Let your core carry my creed, let my power be the sowed seed. All that has come, and shall forever come. Find yourself worthy and become akin to me."

He added his desire and power to the scroll.

---

Across the vast, endless expanse of the multiverse, a cosmic bull was grazing on the light-year long strains of gases and matter on the Flowerfield Nebula. It was quiet - even for a realm devoid of noise such as space - and the bull knew nothing but peace and quiet. Here, he had danced with the nebula for untold ages: He would eat its fill of hard matter and, after a time, release it back out again as gases into the circulation of the cosmic phenomenon. The nebula had been shaped by the bull’s grazing, and the bull had been shaped by the nebula’s abundancy. He had grown fat on its overflow of sustenance, and the nebula had grown dependent on his recycling of matter back into gas. They had domesticated each other, and neither could leave for fear of permanent, irreversible change.

All was peaceful until…

_{”Come…”}

The bull raised his head from the eternal graze. The pain of the stiffness of straightening his neck for the first time in aeons drowned out the sound, which had been as soft as the beat of a mosquito’s wing. He paid it no mind and shifted his eyes to the delicious matter below him. Yet before he could lower his head, there it was again.

“Come…”

Louder this time, yet not more audible than whisper. In absence of other noise, however, it was comparable to a yell. The bull shook, his belly with him, a quake rippling across his skin. He scowled around, horns thirstily searching for the assailant of his ear drums. Yet nobody came. The echo of the deafening whisper quieted down, and he was once again left alone. Just to be sure, he fixed his eyes on the black horizon, stars twinkling nervously all throughout his gaze. Only after an eternity that felt like the blink of an eye, did the bull’s eyelids laze down to their drowsy state.

Then, a thunder, a cacophony, a circus of a billion decibels rocked the very fabric of space encompassing the bull. The gases in his nebula quaked and dissipated like smoke in a hurricane; planets cracked apart and stars imploded and exploded like bubbles in a tub. Despite the relative emptiness of the vacuum of space in the bull’s realm, the perversely powerful soundwaves transcended the laws of nature, physics and common sense.

“OHOHO! You’ve called me, little thing?! Very well. I, Galaxor, the God of Heroes, the Hero Maker, Divine Artisan of Heroes, Celestial Forger of Legendary Champions, Master of Heroic Destinies, Architect of Heroism and Valor, Weaver of Epic Tales, Cosmic Mentor of Heroic Prodigies, the Legendary Enabler of Greatness, Creator of Champions, the Mythweaver, the Cosmic Patron of Heroic Aspirations, the Celestial Architect of Legendary Deeds, have answered your call!”

The bull could barely make sense of what happened before:

“HERE! Take some speck of my power and make my wishes known within this universe.”

The bull screamed, but he was an ant battling an elephant.

“All shall rejoice when heroes walk the world.”

Like a grain of sand to a hurricane.

“All shall learn from GALAXOR!”

_{”Shut up, pleeeaaase!”} the bull squeezed out through the storm of noise, speaking words for the first time.



His rage and fury twisted his muscles, bones and skin. His front limbs cracked apart and regrew into colossal, tree-trunk arms with muscles like pistons.



His powerful back craned upwards, lifting his massive belly off the “ground”. His hands and feet stepped in millennia old nebulaen cow pies left by himself over aeons. His transparent, celestial skin browned with maroon fury and his corporeal form filled with substance and depth.



His back hooves now carrying his whole weight, he stood up straight for the first time, his face growing a beard in a second as though the rage within him started pushing out whatever grew underneath his skin.



He hit peak anger. With a charge like a flash of lightning, the minotaur tore through the shattered space he had lived in for as long as he could remember. He gored at the walls of the multiverse with his horns and ripped apart the wall between realities until he saw on the other side, several lights and forms. With a final roar, he rent the last threads and shoved his head and half of his torso out, spotting all the forms in great detail. In their midst, he saw his target, laughing mightily as he did with an aura of glory radiating from him like the rays of the sunpool beneath them. Still halfway stuck in the tear, the minotaur forced a hand through and shook it at the heroic character.

Galaxor continued laughing with mirth usually only reserved for the most joyous occasions as his power was slowly being drained by the Codex. Taking a deep breath of…nothing, he was about to write more in the Codex, more rules, more trials, more tribulations that would haunt mortals in this universe until they became the legendary heroes worthy of the name but then he felt something. A ripple in time and space. The fabric of the multiverse itself was being ripped apart by something or someone. Only another deity would have that power. Only a deity that…shouted at him.

“SHUT UUUUUP!” He kept pushing himself through the tear, grunting and fuming as he did.

Turning his head to where the sound came from, Galaxor laughed once more, louder and stood tall, letting his perfectly sculpted muscles shine in the light of the sunpool behind him. Generating some wind, his hair waved in it and with a smile that could melt the heart of a love goddess.

Looking at what shouted at him, Galaxor studied the weirdly looking deity. It reminded him of a domestic animal of his youth but bigger and better. “Maybe that’s what happened with it! He became a deity! So, that’s what happens when you turn an animal into a hero!” he thought to himself, even his thoughts were loud, shouting within his own mind, making the heroic aura around him expand and contract as he did.

“Hello there! Are you, by any chance, Little Roxalag? Do you remember me? ” he said out loud, fully ignoring the “Shut Up”.

The bull would not be out-ignored and reverse-ignored his smug reply. With great effort, he pushed his enormous body through the tear and kicked off from the nothing beneath his filthy hooves. As he flew at the herculean figure before him, he wound up a straight punch. “GRRRRRRIIIIT THOSE TEEEEEEEEEETH!” he cried.

Surprised, Galaxor laughed once more, his hands going on his belly.

“Oh? You’re trying to fight, little one? ” said Galaxor, looking into a different direction as he did.

The bull’s colossal body approached Galaxor at lightning speed and only when he was a mere meter away, Galaxor let out a loud yawn and grabbed the bull’s fist, all while still looking away and spinned him around. As he spun him, after a few seconds, he stopped and placed the bull nicely in front of himself before giving him a gentle flick of his finger on the bull’s nose.

“HA! HA! I win. You’ve still got a lot to learn, little Roxalag! ” continued Galaxor with a gentle smile. He wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone if asked, but he found the bull’s reaction, kinda cute.

The bull’s skin turned from maroon to crimson, a blush so powerful that it threatened to cook him from the inside. He looked up at the smirking, perfect face that had treated him like a toy and could hardly control his breath. He wound up another blow, this time an uppercut, blaring, “Sh-SHUT UP!”

Galaxor raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Ahhh…they never learn." he said before pulling his head back, more than it would be normally possible and at breathtaking speed used it to connect with the bull's fist.

A massive explosion of force as the two divines connected followed. As the cosmic dust cleared, Galaxor's aura shined through. If one would look at him, one could see that he wasn't even remotely hurt while his opponent's hand was battered and bruised.

"Little one. Stop, you're just hurting yourself. Let me give you some advice. Go back wherever you came from, train for a few eons and let's spar again. If you continue, I'll be forced to take this as a challenge and I, Galaxor, the God of Heroes, the Hero Maker, Divine Artisan of Heroes, Celestial Forger of Legendary Champions, Master of Heroic Destinies, Architect of Heroism and Valor, Weaver of Epic Tales, Cosmic Mentor of Heroic Prodigies, the Legendary Enabler of Greatness, Creator of Champions, the Mythweaver, the Cosmic Patron of Heroic Aspirations, the Celestial Architect of Legendary Deeds, face all my challenges with extreme force. "

The bull didn’t reply. He was soaring away like a comet across the sky, dazed as though he had made out with a rockslide. He groaned something out into the nothingness of the ether, his fist a funny pudding of bones and skin. The stump lead the way, like a clump of lead at the end of a fishing line. After a good ten minutes or so (time wasn’t really a thing quite yet), he was still out of it, but at least he was conscious again. The rage threatened to choke him, so to ease up on the pressure, he readied his other fist. Just one punch - JUST ONE! That would show him! He kicked off yet again and flew right back towards Galaxor, albeit from a longer distance away and clearly slowed by the pain.

“I WILL MAKE YOU PAY FOR TAKING ME AWAY FROM MY PASTURE!”

Putting his hands in front of him, Galaxor looked confused.

"I've got no idea what you're talking about but if you want a fight. Fine. I'll show you the differences between our skills. " replied Galaxor to the bull before taking a deep breath, growing in size as he did.

Now standing at 6 meters tall, his heroic aura shined bright, almost like a small sun and with a clap, he took off at breathtaking speed. Faster than the bull, faster than before, he caught the bull's horns mid-flight and spun him around a few times before throwing him away. But he didn't stop there, as the bull was flying, Galaxor caught up to him, punched him in the opposite direction and continued to do so a few more times. Battering the bull’s body with blows. These blows were not at full strength but enough to teach him and all others that might watch, that Galaxor is not to be trifled with. After a few more hits, he grabbed the bull by the neck and looked him in the eye.

“Yield. ” said Galaxor. Only one word but it was said with a commanding tone only known to divine beings. The tone of a god talking with his mortals. Gone was the cheery and full of life Galaxor. Instead, the Hero Galaxor came out. The true Galaxor. The fighter. The legendary warrior.

The bull hung from his hands like a dead fur. He was very clearly alive - barely - but he seemed to be completely knocked out. A horn had been cracked and his face was overgrown with swellings. He grunted something small, but it was very clear that the fight had been knocked out of him. He let out a small “prrt…” and some filth dripped off a bruised hoof.

“Very well.” said the Hero Galaxor with the same tone as before.

As he released the bull, his heroic aura dimmed once more to what it was at the beginning. Looking at the beaten divine, Galaxor smiled at him and put his hands together. Divine energy formed between his hands, glowing brighter and brighter before becoming a tiny ball similar to a sun. The ball flew from Galaxor’s hands and went into the bull, healing him of his most serious injuries.

“HA! HA! HA! Now that was something! Phew! Thank you for the entertainment, little Roxalag. Are you calmer now? Introduce yourself. Tell me your titles and name. ” said Galaxor to the now-healed divine.

The swelling faded around the bull’s eyes, and underneath them dwelt a scowl. He snorted angrily, which incited a cough: “Hugch-huch-HUMMUSahaqawattr!” he hacked. It was then that a flash flickered in his eyes. His rage had yet to subside, but he no longer seemed aggressive - at least not against Galaxor, for fear of ending up a steak. He kicked off again, this time away with all haste, ignoring the hero god’s attempt at peace brokering. Instead, he shook his fist again as he flew off into space. “YOU WIN THIS TIME, YOU DAMN YELLER! I will never forget this!” His orb-like body soared through empty space like a comet, seeking a distant corner to sulk in.

Galaxor laughed as he saw Hummus running away and waved at him.

“Not many forget their first encounter with GALAXOR! You take care now, learn a bit more and challenge me again, Hummus! You were fun to play with!” shouted Galaxor before taking off too. He wasn’t sure where to go but he knew he would hang around this universe. It was a fun one.

@Frettzo @King of Rats



In the darkness, there was silence inside of the emptiness of space. When the darkness was filled with the command of All That Wasn’t calling forth his creations that were birthed from the explosion of his body. The shockwave reached every inch of the darkness. Eventually, they reached a spot far away from the other birthed gods. A small clear bubble started to form in the darkness. Something was growing inside of the bubble, whatever was growing inside of the bubble was slowly growing larger and larger. Eventually, it reached a point where the figure was large enough that the bubble could not contain whatever it was. The figure was wrapped in a large yellow robe that seemed to flow back and forth. “Awake....Larues has awakened….” The figure whispered while a million ideas raced through his mind. His “eyes’ move around to take in his surroundings. His face was pale white with vertical slits where his eyes are. Small slits on his face where his nose and mouth were. His face looks more like a mask than his actual face. His elongated fingers reached towards his head noticing that he had a crown on. Noticing the crown was shaped with horns reminded him of a creature in a dream he had. Yawning loudly while stretching his long arms.

Suddenly he felt compelled to follow the command that he had heard. He moved in the direction where he heard the command, eventually reaching what looked like a codex of some kind. His long fingers reached over touching the codex, long-looking veins sprawling out into the darkness. "Now I lay thee to down to sleep...May you dream...” Whispering as he gifted the world with sleep and dreaming.

The god of sleep floated away from the wondering if he would run into any of his brothers and sisters. Floating around in the void he noticed a figure that seemed to be ever-changing. There was a sense of familiarity with this figure but he could not put his finger on it. “You....every changing....chaotic....similarly to a dream....” Larues craned his head to the side studying the figure in front of him. “Are there others...like us here in the void? Are we the only gods?” He asked as he moved a little closer to the figure. He was unsure if this chaotic being was hostile or not, so he decided to keep his distance from them. His “eyes’ looked around the void to see if there were any other gods that were created in the explosion. "What is your.....name? My name is...Larues the keeper of dreams..." He said properly introducing himself.

---

"Come."

The word caressed her senses like an enveloping and unwelcome hug. Engrossed as she was, she'd deal with it in a minute. Still, anxiety began to well in her chest, her brows furrowing at what lay before her. Black jumble and jargon splayed out on white. A growing pain was beginning to spread from behind her temple. Maybe if she just ignored the summons…?

"Come."

The voice said again, like a simple touch upon her shoulder. Yet that touch brought a coiling warmth that spread from her shoulder down her arm. This was enough to jostle her to full awareness. Synapses began to fire into motion within her overworked and aching brain and she glanced over her shoulder to see…

"God, you keep spacing out. This really isn't healthy. You should really come out with us. I think it'd do you some good." The woman smiled softly at her, concern in her eyes. She knew her name but why couldn't she remember it?

Ugh. It didn't matter. She had to finish her… Project?

She jostled her shoulder, annoyance overcoming her anxiety and the woman’s hand fell away. Her own voice broke from her lips, "It'll be my head on the firing board if this isn't finished." Noting the harshness in her tone she quickly added, "Thanks but I'll be okay." She gave her best smile but it felt wrong. The pounding in her head was getting worse and the woman was blurring. Well, she just needed to get back to work.

But the woman reached out to her again and this time the concern was plastered all over her face. The woman said something but it was as if no coherent words came forth. She tried to turn away but her body betrayed her and the woman held her firm. She couldn't do anything and it looked like the woman was yelling, frantically looking around. There was so much pain now. Her ears were ringing like a church bell glitched on a loop.

A soft whisper broke through the chorus of her mind.

"Come."

She didn't want to go anywhere. She just wanted to finish the project and go home. Could she go home? Her head began to slump, blurry vision going dark. There were other people now. Distant faces. Unknown names. Someone began to pick her up, like a giant hand plucking her from the sky. She could just make out her desk and amidst the clutter was the small colored pot her niece had made her at school. She had used it to hold pens.

And the thought struck her for the first and last time, wouldn't pottery have been nice?

"Come!"

---

It had been a silly thought. A past echo really. Even there, in that empty place, where she had always been of course, the memories were fading. If they had been real at all. What was real anyway? Was she real? She scrunched her nose and looked down at her hands. She could see through them but that didn't really bother her, strangely. What lay past her hands was more intriguing. That was indeed a strange thing.

It had always been there, she knew this instinctively. Yet why? Why had it called? It had called, right? A summons from this empty place. She furrowed her brows, no longer able to recall what had been the past or if it had been the future. But she was there at present and… She reached out to the thing- No, not a thing. The Khodex.

A simple parchment of gold, at least it looked gold. Luke a light in the infinite dark. It was smooth to the touch, made of a material she could not fathom. Ornate yet lacking. Grand yet small. A repository for a foundation yet painfully blank. Why?

A shaky breath escaped her lips and she said to it, fingers trembling slightly, “You are so… Useless!” and she tossed it aside, not even deigning to watch and see where it went. She grabbed the sides of her head and began to pace upon the nothingness, pulling at her hair. The Khodex was infuriating! It could be so much more! Yet it was that unassuming little thing?

Preposterous!

She could not stand for it! She wouldn’t! For she was Sylia and this was her purpose. She would break the damn thing and then craft it anew, better than before. And all of the coming creation would thank her. It was the least she could do.

So Sylia summoned to her what little material there was in that place before places. From those that had already imprinted upon this unborn universe. Most of it was worthless and could not be used for what she had in mind, so she cast them aside until she was left with broken bits of metal. Upon a closer inspection, Sylia determined that the shards could be used. Power had broken them apart, severed the connection that would have been used only for confinement. She looked out then and wondered who had escaped? Some of the pieces oozed with a dark substance and Sylia filed it away for later. It wasn't important.

Besides, she had a task that required her immediate attention.

When Sylia reached the Khodex once more, she began to smirk. “Worry not! I shall free you from this state, friend!” She exclaimed, arms stretched outwards as she began to work the metal. She began to concentrate, ignoring everything else that was occurring.

The coalescing metal warped, becoming liquid under extreme heat. Next once it began to cool she began to bend in on itself, heating and bending, like dough being kneaded with a baker's eye. When the lump became workable she formed from it a pair of scissors. Small, shiny and sharp. Not an object of great praises but a tool. One that would not fail.

Satisfied with this, she took the scissors in her fingers, the metal warm and inched them towards the Khodex. She could not contain her giddy laughter, "There’s nothing to worry about, sweet dear one! Just a quick snip and the real work can begin."

The scissors crested over the fabric of creation, still as all could ever be and… she hoped to hear a magnificent snip, instead Sylia heard a small tink and the scissors exploded into shards. She gave an audible gasp and then broke into a wicked smile. She discarded the scissors and exclaimed, "A challenge!"

Of course scissors wouldn't have worked, the Khodex was deceptive. Too strong for such measly means and she doubted anything else with a cutting edge would be able to make a dent. Thus she endeavored again, gathering more metal shards and working it first into a hefty shaft, for there was no other material for a shaft, and then a large head. Rectangular, smooth and built to hammer. The pieces intertwined, becoming one forevermore. Another tool made for a purpose.

Once this was done, Sylia raised the hammer high above her head. Anticipation welled up like a font inside of her and unable to hold herself anymore, to think about anything other than the task, she brought the hammer down upon the Khodex.

There was a resounding boom that exploded forth. A showering of golden sparks glinted and arced outwards, bringing a burst of illumination to the darkness. The Khodex was, however, unharmed. So Sylia swung the hammer and again a boom echoed across infinity. Nothing. Again. Nothing. Again! Lighting screamed after every explosion. The hammer was becoming warped, its once dark color bleaching away with every swing. A great hum began to fill the air, Sylia kept hitting the Khodex.

Harder and harder. Each hammer swing began to leak into the next, so was Sylia's determination and resolve. And again there would be nothing. The hammer began to glow white hot. Warmth raced up her arm and then when her swings would have shattered worlds, the Khodex began to swirl. She didn't stop, she couldn't!

With each swing the Khodex began to reveal itself to her. Swirls of runic letters, veins of infinite colors, maddening hieroglyphics, unknowable equations, eldritch diagrams- the source of creation at her fingerti-

There was a loud crack and reality shuddered. In an instant, the hammering ceased, for she drew back only the shaft. Next came a rush of light that erupted in her face and the shaft of the hammer was ripped from her grasp and consumed into the Khodex, along with the embedded head. Eaten away into the very same insanity she had witnessed. Then all became dark, the Khodex revealed no more and Sylia… Hummed.

She had to admit that she had been bested. Anger would do no good. She had at least seen results, a glimpse of potential and the future. Perhaps in time one would be able to fully break the Khodex. It would be something to think about. Still, she was slightly disappointed. A sigh escaped her lips.

"You got what you wanted. Now hurry up." She said to the Khodex, voice reserved, "This place is boring."

Amidst the boundless expanse of the Universe, a shimmering distortion began to unfold; slowly and steadily, an ethereal figure materialized, its grandeur unparalleled and awe-inspiring. Towering in stature, the deity's form was a captivating interplay between two realms; its upper torso - chest, broad shoulders, and a dignified head - was firmly anchored in the Material Realm, emanating an otherworldly radiance, while its lower half seamlessly merged with the backdrop, tethering it to the enigmatic Astral Realm.

His gaze settled upon the Khodex of Creation, floating majestically in the void, as memories of bygone eras flooded his mind; a sigh escaped his lips. Reflecting, he thought, "Once again, I find myself at the cusp of creation, helping shape the destiny of a new Universe." His thoughts wandered back to his original realm, the place of his true origin, and the siblings he once knew; suddenly, a melancholic yearning took hold, with the weight of eons pressing upon his ethereal shoulders.

He then surveyed the vastness around him, acknowledging the grand arrivals of the other deities; each one unique in their splendor, they brought with them a distinct essence and energy. One of them shined brilliantly in an inferno of passion, giving her all to the Universe from the get-go. Others were veiled in mystery as they cycled around the Khodex; an aura of stabization emanated from the trio as they seemingly enchanted the scroll with their essence - he could feel the changes taking root in the nascent Universe, particularly within the stars.

When a particularly... unique creature broke through the fabric of space, barreling into the Universe with a surprising determination, he questioned what exactly it would contribute to the Khodex. Even back in his original home, he had never managed to unveil the mysteries of the powers that be, the ones that had the ability to call forth beings such as themselves. Yet, the moment he felt the concequences of the creature's additions into the Khodex - it was as if his mind had been caged within a fog cloud, unable to pierce through and swim along the currents of knowledge that was previously available to him - a slight frown marred his otherwise emotionless face. Maybe the powers that be were not as considerate after all.

He made a mental note of this deity as he watched its retreat from the vicinity of the scroll, for he would have to be wary of its actions further down the road. As he was thinking that, another deity had made her appearance; he watched as the newcomer was overcome by a frenzied, almost zealous expression as she ravaged one of the strange, sprawling veins that covered the expanse of creation, emanating a faint, otherwordly glow - undoubtedly an addition into the Khodex that happened before his emergence into this Universe.

The duality of her form, after she completed her addition, intrigued him; coupled with the faint humming from the Khodex, it made him eager to see how her gift would blend with the future inhabitants of this world.

Just like that, he floated in space, surveying the coming and going of deities as they continued making their own little contributions towards creation. Yet something inside of him hesitated... calling these ones kin and putting them in the same pedestal as the ones from his original universe did not sit well with him. He could already foresee his interactions with them, and though he would hope for them to be cordial, it seemed more fitting to think of them as colleagues sharing a common purpose, but not a shared history. Not yet, atleast.

Shaking off the weight of the past and the uncertainties of the present, determination flashed in his eyes. "I shall aid this Universe to the best of my abilities," he resolved, "and then, I must seek a way back to where I truly belong." With a final glance at the vast expanse and the deities present, he turned gracefully. The ethereal form that had graced the Material Realm began to fade, fully merging into the Astral Realm, leaving behind an echoing silence and a trace of his magnificent presence.

There was work to be done; his fellows would undoubtedly become busy with populating reality with their creations, and exerting their influence upon the fabric of the Universe. He ought to do the same, for no one would achieve his goals in his stead.

The veil was now many times pierced and restored, its surface rippling and folding with each disturbance like fine silk, like the surface of a still pond in the most starless of nights. Behind it the Hand of Mysteries rested at ease over the knee of Its master, who reclined in observation, a mere shadow of a silhouette, as if watching children at play.

The lake of warm gold sparkled and lapped gently at the surface of the world not yet born, shining in dappled beams through the black mist above. The mist grew ever thinner, blown this way and that by the whirling and weaving of the gods at the Scroll, such that it was now more like a fine curtain than some impenetrable wall. Still, when the First Rakshasa manifested, he did not trouble himself with what was above. He had looked about the golden lake all around with awe, and then shut his many eyes in long meditation, still bathing in the glowing warmth that pierced his eyelids. What perfection!

The Rakshasa was seated on a fine rug and dressed in the splendor of gold, his head-dress circling around his fanged visage in nested crowns studded with gold discs, such that it was not possible to say where the headdress ended and his furred face began. Around his chest were bands of gold pieces and fine garnets, spaced with scarlet furs, and the furs of his heavy golden cuff-bands were red and fine also.

Now the lake of gold had neither shore nor island within itself, so the seating place of the old Rakshasa lay on no dry soil, but on a wide and bright lily-pad that rested high above its surface, buoyed up by the light. And it had happened that from the Hand of Mysteries, a flea did jump, falling through the fading mists and blown this way and that by the winds of light that shone from the hatching gods, until at last it was blown onto that very lily-pad. There the Flea briefly rested, before turning to the large being before him. “Master,” he began, “forgive me, for I am only a flea, and know not where I am to-day. With whom do I have the honour to speak?”

The First Rakshasa, whose three eyes had been closed in meditation (for what was there to observe about this endless and most perfect golden lake?) sniffed. His third eye, set upon the middle of his brow, crept open and peered at the interlocutor.

“Here was the sublimity of creation, a lake of purest majesty,” the Rakshasa rumbled, slowly at first as he found that he’d a voice, as he exercised that voice for the first time. “Yet now,” the words spilled out faster, “we have a defiled corpse!”

The last syllable tumbled out with such vigor that it took form. It smacked flat against the lake’s surface, stretched out and sprawled, and there lay Corpse, gaping up at the ripples overhead. Though he had only just fallen from the Rakshasa’s lips, he looked very old and parched, because he was so close to the golden light and warmth. He was very still, so much so that one could barely see him, and only his eye looked on and blinked.

The Rakshasa leaped up in an instant, standing upon his lilypad where he had before been seated in serene meditation, and snarled at the Flea. He roared, “Your presence contaminates the perfection of being!”

The Flea quaked, and crossed its four arms about itself, and then swiftly fell down and prostrated before the frightening scowl of the sage. “Oh, splendid lord! Would that I could vanish into gold, so I would not offend your eyes! I did not know that I was trespassing. Which land is this, that I have had the fortune to step upon?”

The mighty Rakshsa snorted with indignation, and a foot snapped out to strike the Flea and knock it off the lilypad. It landed upon Corpse.

“This was no mere land,” the eldest Rakshasa preached, its two lower eyes opening now. “It was a beautiful chorus, and I a mere vessel, an ear, so that an appreciator would exist for that most perfect Song!”

And from his lips burst out another being, this one called Song. She also fell into the lake, but she rolled over her head and sat cross-legged there. All her mouths began humming to themselves, but some always ran ahead of the others, and she had to start the tune over before the chant became louder. So it was that she was never very loud.

Still, the First Rakshasa was not silent from his raving. “Now, the Celestial Music has been ruined by this discord; never again is there likely to be another note of such Perfection. But I will always remember it, so that there always be at least one Preserver.”

Out from his mouth came the two siblings, and they likewise landed in the lake of gold. Perfection rose up and looked at her reflection, and what she saw did not please her. So she took one of her arms and pulled until it was longer; then she pushed the sides of her head so that it was slimmer; then she stretched her foot; but the sight was never to her liking, and so she went on stretching and squeezing and pulling. Preserver saw this, and was displeased also, for it was not well to him that the lake should have a reflection. So he stirred the surface to chase it away; and he went on stirring.

It was in that time that the stammering Flea grew quiet, now understanding the gravity of its terrible offense of coming into being, at least in the three eyes of that dreadful tyrant of the First Rakshasa. But fortunately, that uppermost third eye of the black creature was now tilted upwards. The blackened mists had grown thinner yet, so now the enraged lord could peer through so as to gaze at the motions of the heavens yet to come. He beheld some lightshow where distant Galaxor battled a bull, and curled a lit in disgust. The Divine Chorus had been grander and more expansive than its devoted Ear had ever realized, and that made the Rakshsa feel pity and sorrow, for what job had he done if he, whose role was only to watch, and more importantly listen, had seen so little? When he hadn’t even heard so many Voices in the Chorus, before the Celestial Music had been forever marred by the din of that distant battling?

His sorrow begat another being, as the Rakshasa suddenly bellowed an ugly, wild, wordless howl of misery and frustration and anger. It grew so loud and heavy that it fell on its feet, still burning and quivering with Rage. Try as this being might, however, he could not spill it out, for he did not have a mouth. Thus he jumped and stamped in place, shaking his many fists, until his furious movements found a flow. Then he began to dance, eyes flashing with fury, and he never ceased because his Rage was overflowing.

Corpse looked at him, and blinked; then he looked up at the Flea. He said, “Haven’t you any other place to stand? If you stand on me like this and jump as you do, I will sink. If you have to go stand somewhere, go to-” But here his voice, which was a low and raspy whisper like rough hide on sand, tapered off to a mumble. The Flea looked about itself, and could see no place on Corpse to hide itself away from the furious Rakshasa with his crowns and furs. Nor did it want to jump onto Rage’s wild arms, for fear of sinking Corpse and making even more trouble. “Master Corpse, your throat is dusty like old bones, and I cannot hear you at all! Let me come a little closer, and then you can tell me where I can stand.”

“Come here close to my lips, so I can say it to your ear,” whispered Corpse. So the Flea hopped up his chin; but when it leaned in to listen, suddenly Corpse opened his mouth very wide, so wide that it cracked a little in the jaw, and he swallowed the Flea whole. Then he swelled up, and he looked full. Thus it was that vermin came to live inside of Corpse, swelling him when they sate his hunger, but since then his jaw has always hung a little loose, because he had snapped it in swallowing the Flea.

For the First Rakshasa–who would come to be called Rakshasaraja–the progenitor and lord of these five remaining lesser beings that had sprung from his maw, there was still no consolation. The noble being’s three eyes remained gazing upward, toward the great Void that was in many ways empty in that time, but which seemed bursting with life and vigor if only for the presence of the Khodex and those divinities flitting around it. The Rakshasaraja’s howling that had given birth to Rage quieted down, but did not fully cease. He was not becoming calm, merely expending all of the vigor of his lungs. His throat was hoarse. The feral cry faded into a grumbling stream of malformed words and curses, too twisted and odious to take shape as had some others.

All about, the Void buzzed with a tumult that offended the Ear. So he brought up his two hands and plugged his ears, trying to shut out the din of chaos so that he could remember the beauty of the Celestial Music that had once been Sublime. The self-absorbed five spawn of his scurried about, not much better than the Flea, and so he raised his other two hands and used them to cover his two lower eyes. The tips of his fingers stretched and reached, but they couldn’t quite cover the third eye upon his brow, and so he seethed, knowing that he would forevermore be unable to find the tranquility of his original meditation.

“Hrmgrlgarburhmmm,” he grunted incoherently, no longer poised or in control of his lips. He was animated by madness. He paused after a long time, just long enough to catch his breath, and then spat out two more nonsensical syllables: “-Galbar-!”

Enough vigor filled that word to give it form, and a great stone manifested in the Rakshasaraja’s throat. He sputtered, he coughed, and he hocked it up. He spat it out not into the glorious gilded depths below, where it would mar the perfect lake and take it ever further from Sublimity, but cast out the thing high and away, above into the void. The stone spun and spun, growing in size as it soared through the nothingness. A bit of saliva still clung to the rock, but the force of the stone’s tumbling journey pulled it all to one side, where it pooled together in a small depression of the otherwise near-spherical rock.

The Rakshasaraja’s rambling continued on, weaker and softer, until they became just mumbles. Then he collapsed in exhaustion and lay down upon his lilypad, surrounded by the clamor of his five children. Beyond the veil, the Hand of Mysteries grinned.

The void was empty, which made sense since it as a void. Actually, there wasn't even a void, as that would imply that there could be something more. In reality, there was nothing. Actually, that wasn't quite true either, since there was a scroll and various gods and even a bruhaha with a cow. So in truth, this place was empty except for a few things, which would qualify as not empty.
Tuuni, a small imp of a god with long flowing hair and bushy eyebrows that all but covered his visage knitted his brow. In his hands he held a paddle and under his sandaled feet (hidden by his beard) he floated on a square of wood. He was slowly pushing himself towards the center of this nothing-but-something, where the scroll was asking for the arrival of others like him. Granted, he figured he was too late to write anything in the vessel, which was a shame but he also really wanted to arrive in a thematic way that unfortunately was slower than using his godly abilities to just be there. A small price to pay, besides, Tuuni figured, it was best to leave the heavy writing of the very cosmos to the larger gods and to create as little of a splash as possible, especially so early in the birth of this something. He was content to wait and see.
He craned his neck as he thought, okay yes, there were things he wanted to do and things he wished he had written, but his excuses were enough to satisfy him for now. With a flourish he planted his paddle into nothing and stopped, high above the meandering gods, small black eyes peeking out from under his bushy brows to watch them. So begins the story of Tuuni and his new friends.

---

Two silver hands cupped the regolith of the lifeless world. The anomaly in a place that had not yet begun to be. It was unwelcoming. Unsustaining. Useless. It made the silvered Goddess wonder at the intent behind it. If there had been such a thing at all. Her thumbs circled in the gray soil, feeling every rough texture and particle of dust. The sensation imprinted itself upon her mind but it felt hollow. There was nothing organic within. No small makers. No waiting seeds. They simply did not exist yet. Just empty plains.

She tipped her hands, pulling back and watched as the soil became suspended in the air. Without an atmosphere this place was but a barren rock suspended in the unborn. She began to walk, hands pressed behind her back as she gazed out at what was and what could be. She was struck with an odd sort of melancholy. Her earlier bout with the Khodex had left her unfulfilled. Perhaps this place was just a reflection of her own state of being? She kicked at a rock and watched it go sailing off into the dark sky. Well, not so dark with all the Veins. Much had been added to the Khodex and more yet would be inscribed but despite all of that, its full potential was not reached. Perhaps it never would.

Sylia’s gaze shifted once more, back across the dull world. She was of the Material and one of the few who would add any sort of real substance to the world, once it bloomed with her gift. The Immaterial existed, yes, but without the physical presence of those who could harness its capabilities, how useful could it be? She raised her chin and ran her hands through her flowing hair. She had been touched by the Khodex’s promise, no longer a body of the Immaterial would she wear. Silvered and shining, flowing as if molten whilst retaining blessed shape.

She went to kick another stone but paused and bending down she took it in her hand. A flake of a once larger piece, composed of numerous fragments and bound together by their matrix. Her finger slid down the edge, feeling the jagged and smooth texture.

“What would you be, if you could dream?” She asked the rock, rubbing her finger over its surface. A smile formed upon her lips. “Perhaps a metal? Maybe a temple? A mountain? A grain of sand? Or…” he voice faded as she took the rock within the palm of her hand and using her other palm, pressed.

There was a faint glow from within her hand, followed by a hiss and when she opened them- “A gem.” She breathed.

She held it up and it caught the light of the cosmic veins and shimmered. An uncut diamond no bigger than her knuckle. An object not made to beat and break but to merely exist. To be looked at and coveted.

Had the rock dreamt of this? Could it have wanted this, if it could ask? To be anything but what it was?

Those questions did not cross Sylia’s mind.

Not as she erected a stone plinth. Not as she cut the gem. Not as she placed that perfect jewel upon its pedestal. Not as she left the first mineral in existence to its fate.

Not ever.