The first Lose

The entity sat by her grave.

The dirt was still fresh, uneven where the others had buried her. The village had gathered, mourning in the way humans did—with tears, with silence, with whispered prayers to gods it did not know.

But the entity did not weep. It could not.

It simply sat, staring at the mound of earth, waiting.

Waiting for what, it did not know.

For years, it had followed her, learned from her, spoken the words she taught it. And now she was gone. Her body would rot, the village would move on, and one day, even the memory of her would fade.

But the entity remained.

Unchanged.

It clenched its hands, staring at the lines in its skin. The same hands that had touched hers. The same body she had helped shape, refining its voice, its form, its mannerisms.

But what was it now, without her?

Something stirred within its chest. A weight. A pressure. It had no word for it, but it hurt.

And for the first time, the entity wondered—what was the purpose of an eternal existence in a world where everything else would end?

The King's Summon

The village did not forget the entity, even in their grief. To them, it was still a gift, a spirit, a protector. And so, when word came from the great city beyond the mountains, calling for all tribes to send their best and strongest, they turned to it.

The old chief, now frail with time, placed a hand on its shoulder.

"You were with her the longest," he said. "She would have wanted you to go."

The entity did not argue.

It did not know why, but it obeyed.

And so, it left the village behind, walking the path toward civilization—the first great kingdom of man.