Book of Origin

In the genesis of creation, when even time lay dormant in unknowing, there emerged Aena — the Fair One, neither foremost nor final, yet imbued with the fervent will of her sire and the tranquil grace of her mother. Chosen among the formless hosts, destined to harmonize the enduring cycles.

The dance of purity and lust, self-restraint and indulgence, charity and avarice — these conflicting currents she endeavored to balance. Compassion and resentment, modesty and vanity, order and chaos — the myriad patterns she sought to reconcile. And paramount among these, the perpetual flux between love and hate.

Amidst the tumult of the void, Aena stood as a solitary beacon of hope — a vision that, one day, the delicate equilibrium of all existence might be restored, undisturbed, and her children might at last partake in the bounty of the cosmos.

She embarked upon her odyssey. With unwavering perseverance, she raised the lands until the loftiest peaks were christened mountains. With tender care, she smoothed them to level plains. Patiently, with persistence and joy, she breathed life into the zephyr until it became the sky.

Then, with lavish rainfall, she gathered the waters to fill the seven deepest recesses of the realm until they became the Seven Seas. Gazing upon the solitary sea, she scattered her generosity here and there, until those emergent from the waters were hailed as isles.

When her creation lay forth in quiet splendor, Aena, with eternal and peerless love, fragmented her essence to engender life. She purged each shard of impurity, that they might call the world she had crafted home.

When tranquility graced the land, Aena wove fragments of her being, infusing them with her aspirations and yearnings — aspirations for balance and justice, yearnings for eternity and perfection. She sewed them with care, leaving no flaw unsealed, no curve unstraightened, until her creation was worthy as her firstborn.

After six days and nights, Aena's magnum opus neared completion. With warmth and tenderness, she ushered the life she had created into the world. With colossal wings spanning dawn to dusk, the creature soared effortlessly through the newborn skies — gliding above the loftiest mountains, watching the deepest valleys, his reflection mirrored in all Seven Seas. From an island at the world's heart, the Dragon King, Aoda, was born upon the seventh day.

Yet, even in her meticulous craft, the future eluded her sight. The vast and perfect world she had sculpted for her firstborn seemed somehow lacking and desolate. The events she had orchestrated did not become the bedrock of her aspirations as she had intended.

Aoda circled the peaks in restless arcs, wings brushing empty skies. Where harmony should have reigned, solitude lingered — a flaw woven into perfection's tapestry. The King was lonely and yearned for a Queen.

Thus, with what remained, Aena drew tears of divine essence from her fracturing spirit until golden dew trickled from the ruptures of time and space. The drips swelled into a stream, the stream into a lake.

The golden lake gradually dissipated over six lunar cycles, transmuting into a mystical mist that enshrouded the world — a fog so dense that even the sun's light could not pierce it.

A veil of darkness enfolded the land. Yet on the seventh cycle of the moon's voyage, a sprout blossomed as the mist dispersed, and the sun's warmth returned to kiss the earth. Adra, the Tree of Life, took root on that fateful day.

Life burgeoned across the realm as the two shared their affections. The first scale shed by Aoda became the first fish to dance in the sea; the first leaf shed by Adra became the first kelp to carpet the ocean floor.

His claws became lions that roamed the plains; her branches rose as mighty oaks that cloaked the land. His wings became birds that soared the boundless skies; her scattered bark gave rise to shrubs that thrived upon the highest peaks and deepest valleys.

Aoda fathered the fauna as Adra nurtured the flora. One by one, life flourished in Aena's realm — a world where each living thing complemented the other in perfect equilibrium. A world of harmony.

Aoda exuded joy, radiating a beatific smile each day since Adra entered his life. The two were destined for one another — like day's warmth to night's chill, like the calm shore to the tumultuous sea, like youth's fervor to age's wisdom.

Yet perfection bears a weight.

Their unsullied union, unsettling the balance of the heavens, beckoned an ancient, wordless presence. For every force demands its response, and the scales must never tip too far.

In the darkness, rending and clawing, time itself was torn asunder. On the sixth rending of the sixth cycle, as the sixth star waned, time was devoured — and from the wreckage emerged she whom the stars shun.

From the void untouched by Aena's radiance, Azdera coalesced — the unmaking to her making, the silence to her melody. Not born of love but of disdain; not shaped by joy but by ruin. In her womb, not peace was sown but ruin. Where Aena birthed dreams, Azdera bore nightmares.

Silently she shaped seven vessels, each to undo Aena's designs. Where her sister sowed harmony, Azdera reaped vice.

Megah, the prideful embodiment, arose first — vanity and arrogance his fuel, a hunger for worship and exaltation. He tempted with godhood and supremacy, seducing mortals with the promise of power and adulation.

Bakheel, god of Greed, swiftly followed — his insatiable craving for wealth and possession corrupted hearts with dreams of endless riches and indulgence. He preyed upon simple needs, distorting them into boundless hunger.

Gannas, the wrathful spark, emerged with his siblings — his fiery rage the catalyst for discord and ruin. He sowed seeds of resentment and vengeance, inciting strife and violent fracture.

Kesumat, the envious goddess, surfaced next — her green-eyed malice mirroring Azdera's bitter resentment. She whispered poison, turned hearts against one another, and made envy the soil from which betrayal bloomed.

Serakah, embodiment of Lust, was driven by carnal thirst and insatiable appetite for indulgence. She tempted even the purest hearts with forbidden pleasures, dissolving bonds with desire.

Rakus, god of Gluttony, appeared next — his voracious appetite for excess in all things perverted moderation into bottomless craving. He urged mortals to gorge until hollow and ever unsatisfied.

Culars, the slothful one, was last. His languid indifference stifled the spark of labor and discipline, lulling minds into complacency and hearts into apathetic stagnation.

These seven were Azdera's ministers, heralds of her will. They infiltrated the hearts of Aena's children, causing the balance to falter. Thus fell humankind. Even the purest soul could not resist. In sorrow, Aena withdrew from the world.

Yet not all was lost. Before her retreat, Aena entrusted fragments of herself to chosen bloodlines — to bear her curse and her hope. She bound shards of her soul within them, not to empower but to remind; not to grant might but to rekindle balance.

A whispered echo of her resolve.

And in the days to come, that resolve shall be tested. For as Aena slumbers, Azdera stirs. The world now lies cloaked in shades of grey, teetering upon the precipice.

And so it is foretold.

~ The Book of Origin