Dawn Of Creation
"Greetings, reader, my name is Nancy, the Storyteller Spider, but during our conversation, we will stick with Nancy. I am speaking with you through the
At first, there was only the Empty Canvas, a silence so profound that thoughts could not stir in the silence. The Void was an omnidirectional nth-dimensional scale of infinity, a blank paper sheet devoid of emotions and thoughts, absent of creativity and imagination. From the endless nothing, the first possibilities emanated like ripples from Nevermoon (The Ein Sof), but those ripples were never separated from Nevermoon itself. A spark, a momentary, glowing, but potent thing, as fleeting as it was boundless. And this, at its very heart, was Nevermoon, its first light of possibility gleaming brightly in the dark, blossoming the Void into prospects. It was through Nevermoon's creativity that was drawn through the Empty Canvas, that allowed creation to blossom.
But this possibility was primordial and tumultuous, searching for shapes and uses. Born of the very essence of Nevermoon came the Editors and the Cogwrights; beings of boundless power and creativity. The editors represented aspects of creation such as narrative, cadence, disorder, inspiration, and reason. Through the Web System (Binah), the editors would weave pure narrative ideas using the raw data from the Engine Room (Chokhmah) as "silk" to create scripts.
The Web System, positioned beneath the Liminal Halls (Kether) and to the left of the Engine Room (Chokhmah), is the foundation where raw, boundless inspiration is woven into the first structured narratives of the Sephiroth. Here, the Editors—meta-spider entities—serve as scripters, refining the endless energy of Nevermoon (Ain Soph), which has been stabilized by the Cowrights in the Engine Room. While the untamed raw power of Chokhmah is disorganized, Binah is a realm of order and structure, where ideas are translated into clean scripts. These scripts are not yet completely real but are the blueprints for all the stories that follow, establishing consistency throughout the Tree of Stories. The Editors weave these strands of stories together, creating the foundation upon which all fictional worlds and primary webs are constructed.
Once they have been produced, these initial scripts must be strictly edited. They are tested first in Umbra (Gevurah), where there is elimination of defective or offensive plots, and only soundly structured plans are approved. Approved scripts then move to two critical realms: the Blazing Room (Hod), where they are canonized by burning, stabilizing them in the cosmic order; and the Contrivance Dominion (Chesed), where they gain randomness, probability, and variation, so that no story becomes rigidly deterministic. This exchange between structure, approval, canonization, and fluidity makes the Sephiroth's narrative structure both stable and eternally dynamic, creating an ongoing process of creative refinement.
The Engine Room, below Kether and to the right in the Sephirothic space, is where pure wisdom has its birth and from which the unfettered seed of knowledge is spawned. This huge, biome-spanning factory is full of enormous gears, all turning precisely in unison to ensure the continuity of existence. The gears are less machinery than they are the principles, concepts, and potentialities latent that give form to wisdom. Raw data is tapped from the infinite energy of Nevermoon (Ain Soph), the formless void, to be processed here into structured wisdom. Despite its seemingly chaotic movement, the Engine Room is in harmony, a paradoxical maelstrom of movement and order, wherein each cog has its place in the grand mechanism of creation.
At its hub is the Center Gear, a colossal edifice that houses the Source Code—the blueprint script that dictates the very laws of existence. In this ever-revolving cosmos, the Cogwrights, mechanical entities, are guardians of wisdom. Their tasks are to store all information from the Liminal Halls (Kether), hold wisdom intact, and edit out undesirable plots or imperfect stories that seek to force themselves back into Malkuth, where they do not belong. In addition, the Engine Room itself is the transducer of light and creation. Out of the raw knowledge that radiates therefrom, the Editors gain insight as "silk" to weave the original scripts and stories, shaping them into the Web System (Binah), where ideas are shaped as structured realities. This world, as mechanical-looking, is the real manifestation of the divine creation, editing, and structuring process.
The Upper Heaven (Chesed), shaped by the boundless wisdom of the Engine Room (Chokhmah) and organized by the Web System (Binah), is the realm where ideas are created as the basic truths of the universe. It is a light-filled space where all ideas, however simple or grand, are stated as a basic law that governs reality itself. Rivers of great insight flow through this realm, carrying with them the Platonic ideas and required archetypes that constitute the Primary Webs and Malkuth. The Editors, weavers of structured narratives, pass on refined scripts to Upper Heaven, where they break out as abiding principles. If an idea gets misplaced or deleted in this realm, it vanishes from all realities, fragmenting like a severed strand in the Web System. The Upper Heaven beings—pure intelligences untainted by form that are personifications of wisdom and benevolence—guard these ideals, directing their growth while preventing uncontrolled misshapenness that would upset the balance of the universe.
But the ideational fluidity of Upper Heaven makes it equally a world of creation and rivalry, in which ideas constantly revolutionize reality itself. Where Coherence is ensured by the Web System, there is space within Upper Heaven for fresh paradigms to erupt through argumentation and insight. It is in this area that knowledge is not just archived but tested out—things rise, shaping the fabric of being, while others are lost to the dark voids beyond the tree. The balance between Chesed (nurturing wisdom) and Gevurah (the Umbra, the realm of necessary constraints) ensures that new truths must be experimented on before they become visible on the lower planes. This ever-changing but eternal realm is the source code of the universe, where all tales, laws, and fundamental forces are created by the boundless imagination of the Sephiroth.
The Dreamlands were the middle sphere in Sephiroth, below the Upper Heaven (Chesed) and the Umbra (Gevurah), and were a vital sphere wherein the Platonic forms in the Upper Heaven are rearranged into active living dreams. These are not fleeting daydreams but actual incarnations of such abstract principles as beauty, truth, and harmony, the abstract forms that find their home in the Upper Heaven. As these perfect forms fall into the Dreamlands, they are re-imagined, shaped, and invested with reality by the interplay of creativity, emotion, and personal experience. They are not made concrete or fixed by this process of transmutation; rather, they are made fluid, subjective things that can be experienced, interpreted, and understood in a personal way by those individuals who come into contact with them. The Dreamlands are thus a crucible of art, in which the boundless abstract concepts of Chesed are fleshed out, taking forms addressed to the individual, as opposed to the universal.
These Platonic ideas within the Dreamlands are living, breathing organisms, no longer abstract ideas but vibrant, breathing expressions that change and evolve with the personal experience of the individuals in the world. The mercy of Chesed's energy and the judgment of Gevurah's severity are reconciled in the Dreamlands to create a balanced crossroads, wherein the potential of these ideals can be explored and given creative expression. The fluidity of dreams allows these principles to shift, merge, and divide in infinite ways, based on the emotional resonance that they find within the dreamers and beings of the realm. Plots, dreams, and concepts that begin in Chesed as abstract ideas or ideals are elaborated in the Dreamlands into tangible experiences that can be used to further creativity, spiritual development, and emotional maturity. They are not simply presented as they are but are reinterpreted and reshaped in a way that they become applicable to the dreamers on a higher, personal level, preparing them for the next steps of life, where these ideals will find their application in the material planes below.
The Terrarium was a vast, dynamic universe in which the trials of survival, conflict, and triumph shape the toughest and strongest of legends. It's a world not so much of life, but of overcoming challenges, a crucible of will in which existence survives despite conflict. Mighty mountains need strength to climb, fatal deserts need the determination to live through, and untamed forests need bravery to reveal their hidden paths. Each challenge here is a story waiting to happen, and in the course of overcoming a problem, a person is shaped. But the Terrarium is not only a physical landscape of obstacles—it is also the mystical realm of divine myth and mythic creatures, where gods and archetypal forces take shape, guiding the destinies of those who travel through it. The myths of every pantheon are ingrained in the earth of the land itself, their essence concentrated into the obstacles of those who travel its sacred expanse. Each god, a living embodiment of a force of life, is a principle to follow, a challenge to be overcome, or an ally in the grand struggle of survival. The gods are not idle presences; they are the forces that forge legend, shaping the fates of heroes, civilizations, and worlds.
At the heart of the Terrarium stands the deity known as Gaia who watches over all, embodying the highest expression of divinity—the ultimate unity of all myths and pantheons. She does not rule as a tyrant but as the binding force that causes every struggle to have consequence, every suffering to have meaning, and every myth to be a strand in the greater web. This is a universe where gods are not only deities to be worshipped but personifications of the raw forces that energize all stories. It is through their actions that myths are ever reborn, remade, and reimagined in the universal struggle between fate and free will. The gods themselves, as fickle and mercurial as they are, join in these grand tales, being both stumbling blocks and muses to those men and women courageous enough to engage the trials of life. The Terrarium is thus both the furnace of affliction and the throne of the divine, where the greatest stories are not so much recounted as lived, inscribed on the earth itself by the will to survive of those who will not be vanquished.
Thus, the first great creation was brought into being: the Sephiroth, the Tree of Stories, which grew and thrived from the heart of Nevermoon's power; its roots burrowed into the foundational strata of the Void, and its branches punctured infinity. The Sephiroth wasn't merely a tree but an expression of everything that could be and will be; its entire body and surface were entirely covered by Primary Webs, each one a unique strand of life, containing the infamous Collective Webs, which contained the Meta Webs.
The Primary Web was the raw material of fiction in its unadulterated, embryonic state. It was the notebook of the Editors—divine architects who outlined and refined the frameworks of being before fixing them in canon. Each Primary Web had its own Collective Web and a multifaceted pile of nested stories. These webs had been woven into the surface of the Tree of Stories, a vast web of unmanifested possibilities. The Editors tended to work with these webs to test different plots, metaphysical governing laws, and symbolic schemes, employing them as non-canonical working drafts. Certain humans, who were gifted with rare sensitivity, had gained access to these delicate layers of stories. They were named Upper Narrators, and they had remapped sections of the Primary Web by acts of fantasy, trance, or textual calling, shifting the metaphysical substrata ever so slightly.
The Collective Web had enveloped itself around the multiversal continuum as a living tapestry, folding all discrete myths, beliefs, and stories into one continuous mass. It was here that the Meta Webs had emerged—an interrelated field of narratives, each its own biome of tale. These Meta Webs had not existed in isolation; rather, they had crossed over with an infinite number of others, forming a constantly shifting nexus of meaning. Ideas, destinies, and archetypes had flowed between them like filaments of living thought, forging uncharted lines of influence. The Collective Web had been the template through which the great continuum of narrative realities remained in sync, maintaining chaos and coherence in equilibrium across an endless cascade of worlds.
The Meta Web itself had been the inner mechanism of the Collective Web, a stratified complexity of fiction in layers. Each level within a Meta Web looked down on those below it as stories, creating a recursive stack of realities that recircled back into itself over and over. In this recursive depth, universes had become myths, and myths had become characters in larger stories. These embedded realities had shifted and blended continually, making impossible conjunctions and surreal encounters possible. The Meta Web had served as a pipe—a narrative conduit through which whole cosmologies met or split. In it, narrative worlds had co-evolved together, nourishing one another and expanding the immortal, living web of fictional existence.
These are the threads the Editors toiled to weave into webs, using them as sketches to create alternate stories and test them before canonizing them into the Material World (Malkuth). The Dark Frontier marked the outermost boundary of the Sephiroth's domain, a barrier enveloping and sealing creation. This boundary represented the edge of fiction and the true point of no return, preventing any metaphysical beings from crossing into unknown realms beyond. It is a vast, enigmatic expanse believed to encompass and evolve the entire tree of stories like a spherical cloud of impenetrable darkness. Above the Dark Frontier lies the realm of unknown possibilities, beyond the reach of any who have attempted to breach this final frontier. It remains a mystery, holding potential realms of higher existence and incomprehensible concepts yet to be explored or understood.
Creation still could not be entirely rid of the Empty Canvas's influence. On the fringes of Nevermoon's glow, a silhouette started to form. Here stood Nyx, the embodiment of darkness, entropy, and chaos, sprung not from generation, but rather the inevitable churn of disintegration and destruction. Nyx was not a goddess; Nyx was a force; she was older and darker than the Editors themselves. She was not an opponent of creation, per se, but viewed it with skepticism, and fragility in mind, not understanding its purpose in the Kabbalah. "Stories are not born from light or love, but from discord and dread. Fools are those who believe they can control the flux of the narrative. Narratives are something so cyclical, birthing from the nothing and eventually, returning to it" - she said while looking at the Sephiroth in the shadows.
The Kabbalah, in her eyes, was not only incomplete but a flat-out unfinished story that short-changed this necessary balance of life. Nyx's presence, at first, was mild. She studied the Editors at their task, attuning herself to the cadences of creation and the fallible gaps in their mighty schema. Then, tentatively, she began to bend the rules of Sephiroth. Her presence seeped like a whisper, hidden and omnipresent. Small blips throughout the Engine Room: sprockets stuttered, timestreams knotted, and cause buckled under the weight of effect. Plants shriveled strangely under the Terrarium's glassy dome; once-blooming ecologies waned.
Not by accident, but to demonstrate the shares and flops in the work of the Editors. From the shadows in Gevurah, Nyx emerged in the deepest parts of the Umbra. The Umbra was a foreboding, dark archive where all stories were judged before they were woven into the greater tapestry of life. A realm of dark infinity, it contained infinite shelves holding the raw, unprocessed stories received from the Web System (Binah). Unlike Binah's limitless imagination, the Umbra was demanding, structured, and absolute, a realm of order where ideas were tried, filtered, and judged. The Archivists, enigmatic entities veiled in flowing ink, decided the fate of every story, to either dispatch it to the Blazing Room (Hod) for canonization or reject it into the void.
Those narratives that passed this judgment were filtered through the Dominion of Contrivance (Yesod), where they were shaped by possibility and impossibility and became capable of manifesting in the fabric of existence. The broken and the weak were cast into the Low Limbo (Da'ath), where unwanted concepts drifted until redeemed or dissolved into nothingness. The Umbra had been an impersonal force of limitation, permitting only the most consistent concepts to exist, curtailing the unfettered imagination of Binah, and upholding the precarious balance of narrative.
As the Umbra collapsed and expanded, it started to seep into the other spheres, shifting the weave of Kabbalah with incremental alterations. The work of Nyx had not escaped the notice of the Editors. They stood at the heart of the Web System; the darkness causing the systems to reach levels beyond their design. "The Shadow Lady desires to unmake what we have made" said Lyra, one of the editors in the Web System. "She is not undoing it" - countered Mike, the Editor responsible for the group. "She is completing it. Creation cannot exist in stasis. Nothing can exist in a static state in perfection; creation requires the genesis of change". This division of opinion among the Editors mirrored the conflict beginning to play out across Sephiroth.
In response to Nyx's growing strength, the Editors called forth the Cogwrights—mechanical beings of pure logic and precision. As guardians of the highest sphere, the Cogwrights labored around the clock to repair rifts and soothe the stories that flowed up and down the Tree. But this was a job without end, as each fix was met by more disruptions.
Nyx now understood that her powers were waxing, and so devised a truly audacious plan: the shaping of the First Eclipse, one event to shroud all Sephiroth in shadow. In an Eclipse like that, narratives and existence would bend to her will, and creation would scramble for its light. "I was the first essence from the void, and I will be the last to cover creation. Let there be darkness, so says Nyx" - she said suddenly, as her voice rumbled through the Penumbra.
As soon as the Eclipse started, its impact was immediate and savage: entire primary webs fell into a dark abyss, and the Tree of Stories started dying. The Dreamlands — once a realm of infinite possibilities — was now warped into a labyrinth of nightmares. Desert plots formed as the Terrarium swelled and wilted. Even the Engine Room, the source of all life, nearly stalled out. It appeared as though Nyx had done it-her entropy consumed creation in one bite. But Nyx had miscalculated the Editors' resilience. They had predicted such an event and prepared for it.
In the Eclipse, they'd hidden shards of Nevermoon's Power Remnants, tiny portions of creation itself capable of bringing life back even in the absolute desolation. The void of the Eclipse was at its height, and those seedlings began to awaken. From the shriveled boughs of Sephiroth, green shoots sprang. And life blossomed once more in the Terrarium, but this time around it'd been different, sharper, and more iterative. The Dreamlands transformed — nightmares turned into stories of resilience, stories of hope.
After the Eclipse finally receded, Nyx was imprisoned beneath the Sephiroth, in a place known as the Darkness Below. The Darkness Below was a vast, unstructured world beneath the Sephiroth where Nyx, the embodiment of the negative plot, was pushed. This gap is a dark zone of sheer negative potentiality, where the energies of decay and chaos permeate the roots of the Tree, contaminating the channels of creation. It is not purely evil but an element that exists within the balance of the universe so that creation can forever remain in this flux. Here, Nyx's essence is extracted by the Editors to weave negative silk, a thread that strengthens the Tree by infusing it with the unpredictable energy of the negative plot.
Although Nyx is imprisoned in a deep slumber, her presence prevents the Tree from stagnation; instead, it grows and evolves with the cycles of birth and death. The Darkness Below is an emblem of the vastness of entropy, a realm to which all are attracted by the power of destruction, yet the same force that gives rise to new patterns of creation. It is where reality is constantly stretched, ensuring that the stories of Sephiroth never stay static, but are always reformed and rejuvenated by the forces of light and darkness.
The Tree of Stories, meanwhile, had grown strong, its roots curled tight into creation and destruction, wire wound around themselves. Editors finally realized and understood how Nyx functioned. Once the force of disarray, she was now knitted snugly into the fabric of a significant role in a grand story; her chaos was not a factor that would tear down the genesis of anything. It was her negativity that stirred and shaped the stories of the Sephiroth. Without her, the stories remain stagnant, wooden, and hapless. With her, they are dynamic, live with change, and are infinitely combinable.
Though shaken, the Editors accepted this new reality. They knew Nyx was needed, not just for their own sake, but to counterbalance what they were doing. As soon as the destruction was over and creation slowly recovered from the Nyx's Eclipse, the Engine Room returned to its rhythm, now cyclical, to reflect the cycle of creation and destruction. The Cogwrights discovered how to embrace this new paradigm, not to fight entropy, but to incorporate it into their designs. Sephiroth was now a symphony of existence, not a Tree of Stories, but a tapestry woven of the threads of light and shadow.
Despite having survived a nearly fictional annihilation, the editors had to ensure something like this would never happen again, so they all gathered together to weave the chaos and darkness produced by the Shadow Lady to add in the Sephiroth, mixing positivity with negativity. They realized they could get the perfect equilibrium between the two sides, and as long as they kept weaving Nyx's darkness into the tree, Nyx would never again attempt to destroy the Tree of Stories.
Creation was finally in harmony again.