Chapter 8: Time and the Past

Time passed.

The primordial world flourished with life, and the randomness planted within the planet's core fulfilled its purpose. Unexpected beings emerged—creatures of feathers and scales, plants of vibrant colors, rivers that changed course on a whim, forests that whispered stories to the wind. Life, in its freedom, surprised even its creators.

But not everything was new to Inar.

Though her essence was woven with curiosity, a part of her seemed immune to the world's surprises. She knew, even without realizing it, how nature would react, how the wind would blow, how the waters would follow their cycle. The present, with its subtle logic, began to feel… predictable.

And so, Inar turned to the past.

Without conscious effort, she discovered that she could observe time that had already passed. The past unfolded before her like a translucent veil, allowing her to relive her first steps, her first creation, her first laughter. Inar was fascinated. Trees sprouting, golden grass spreading, the birth of the moon, the dragon roaring for the first time—every forgotten moment unfolded again before her eyes.

And she lost herself in this reverie.

Days, months, perhaps years passed. She did not notice. She floated above the planet, watching the past, reliving, analyzing, enchanted. The present, vast and waiting, was ignored.

Until Lior, tired of waiting, finally intervened.

— "Inar!" — he shouted, his voice cutting through the fabric of space. — "Stop looking at what we have already done! Let's create more things! You've been like this for ages. So much has changed in the primordial world!"

His voice shattered the veil of nostalgia. Inar blinked and shook her head, as if awakening from a long slumber. She looked at Lior, then down at the planet beneath them.

— "What?" — she murmured, confused. — "What could have changed so much? I was only looking at the past for a little while…"

Lior huffed, crossing his arms.

— "A little while?! Sister, you were lost in the past for so long that the world has completely changed!"

Inar frowned. She turned her gaze to the planet… and was speechless.

The primordial world was no longer the same.

Vast forests now covered areas where there had once been only golden fields. Rivers had multiplied, forming sprawling deltas. Strange creatures roamed the land, swam through the waters, and soared through the skies. New patterns of color had emerged—lilac meadows, emerald lakes, mountains crowned with white snow.

— "How…?" — Inar whispered. — "When did all this happen?"

— "While you were looking at the past," — Lior replied, struggling to suppress a chuckle. — "The world didn't stop growing, sister. You created life… and life went on. Without you."

The realization struck Inar. A silent guilt settled in her chest. She had been so lost in nostalgia that she had neglected her creation.

— "I… got lost." — she murmured. — "I spent too much time trapped in what was. I forgot the present… I forgot the world."

Lior noticed his sister's sorrow, and his hair shifted to a soft silver. He approached and placed a hand on her shoulder.

— "Hey… don't blame yourself." — he said gently. — "That's how time works, isn't it? When we look back, it slips away without us noticing. Maybe…" — He paused, thoughtful, his hair shifting into a shade of green. — "Maybe we should create a way to measure time."

Inar looked at him, intrigued.

— "Measure time?"

— "Yes!" — Lior exclaimed, excited. — "That way, we'll know how long we've spent looking at the past… and how much we dedicate to the present. We can divide time!"

Inar smiled, understanding his idea.

— "How?"

— "We can give names to the passing moments," — Lior explained, gesturing enthusiastically. — "For example, the time it takes for the planet to complete one cycle around the sun can be called a year."

Inar nodded.

— "I like that. And… the time it takes for the sun to cross the sky can be… a day."

— "Exactly!" — Lior continued. — "We can divide the day into smaller parts: hours, then minutes, then seconds! And if we gather many years, we'll have a century. And if we go even further, a thousand years will be a millennium. And… a hundred thousand years… an era."

— "An era!" — Inar repeated, laughing. — "That sounds so grand!"

She jumped with excitement, spinning in space. Her hair formed a colorful arc around her. The thrill of the moment was so overwhelming that her form expanded—expanded until she and Lior became immense, colossal, as large as the planet itself. They floated around it, larger than the moons, larger than the sun from the perspective of the creatures below.

On the ground, beings paused and raised their eyes to the sky. Two giants floated beyond the clouds, their eyes shining like constellations.

Chaos erupted instantly.

Some fled, others bowed, believing they were witnessing gods. Trees trembled, and waters rippled restlessly.

But two figures immediately recognized the colossal forms in the heavens.

The dragon and the gryphon.

They had been soaring over the oceans when they saw their creators above. Roaring in excitement, they launched toward them. The dragon beat its wings powerfully, the gryphon sliced through the air with precision. But as they left the planet's atmosphere, they encountered something unsettling: there was no wind here.

In the void, their wings found no resistance. They moved, but did not advance. They tumbled awkwardly, then stopped, helplessly floating.

The dragon roared, its voice echoing through space. The gryphon screeched, calling for its creators.

Inar heard them.

She turned, seeing the two creatures struggling in the void. Her expression changed.

— "Lior… our first children need help."

She descended toward them, gradually shrinking until she reached the dragon. The gryphon, seeing her, instinctively flapped its wings—without success.

— "There is no wind here," — Lior observed as he approached. — "Space is… empty."

— "Empty…" — Inar repeated, a chill running through her. — "What can we do?"

They remained silent for a moment. The dragon, exhausted, folded its wings and sighed. The gryphon struggled against the nothingness.

Then Lior had an idea.

— "What if we create invisible currents?" — he suggested. — "Currents that don't rely on air, but still exist."

— "Currents of… gravity?" — Inar tried to name the idea, and as she did, the concept was born. Gravity emerged in space, creating a subtle pull that drew the dragon and gryphon back toward the planet. The creatures roared with joy, feeling the invisible force that now allowed them to move.

— "Gravity," — Lior said, satisfied. — "Now they can reach us."

The dragon and the gryphon soared back to the ground, and the siblings exchanged a glance, pleased.

— "We measured time," — Inar said, excited. — "We created a new force…"

— "And we gave life more freedom," — Lior added.

Inar sighed, relieved.

— "Let's return to the planet and see how time shapes life."

And side by side, the siblings shrank their forms and descended back to the primordial world, ready to follow the flow of time—now that it had a name.