Impossible Darkness.

Vast reaches of nothing sprawling across the vacuum of space and time, the emptiness deeply rumbling as the void stretched ever onward. Most would find the idea uncomfortable, skin crawling as their disjointed thoughts spun in circles at the very idea of an incompressible desolate dark pit.

Isn't that how most creation stories start though?

An impossible nothing... devoid of holy light, existing unbothered, suddenly bursting with opportunity and life due to the sole will of a godlike being.

How long this Figure had been there? They had no idea. Time itself had no meaning. Where They came from? What a silly notion... They had always been here. There had never been a moment when the void of light and the Figure hadn't been. These eternal white halls and the Figure that graced them existed as a joint pair.

They just... were.

This Primordial Entity had no name, no desire, or drive. They had been wandering aimlessly through their empty and blank reality since... always. It would have continued as such, but fate had other plans, when a single strand of hair fell from The Figure's head. They drew pause at this, a frown just barely visible from Their heavily covered form. They had never experienced an event like this before. An actual change from the stagnant nature of Their existence. This sensation... it was different... it was unnatural... it was other... it was wrong.

It was incredible.

The blasphemous thought quickly overtook the Entity as they began to observe Their empty world with more critical eyes. What was the point of a forever if nothing changed? An existence where one is to remain stagnant for all of time? The covered Being's lips turned downwards, as if in disdain, and the incomprehensible pureness of the void quickly fell out of favor with it's sole Inhabitant. They were completely enamored with this newness... this type of environmental influence, a reaction They could cause... it was absolutely exhilarating.

Frantically, the Figure began clawing Their hair out with reckless abandon, laughing and wailing at Their discovery. Strands of every color imaginable soon littered the space, as if it were a frayed tapestry. The Entity began grasping at these wild threads, gently rearranging them into new and different ways every so often. They handled them delicately, as if this hair was spun from the finest jewels, completely entranced in their work.

From this cardinal point, these threads of hair spiraled ever outward in more complex designs, a new creation birthed from the first fallen strand. The once blank and pure hall became marred with this newness, til eventually, it was completely covered. The white void was no longer. Due to the sheer willpower of the Entity, these threads slowly wove together to form reality as we know it, pulsing with potential, with growth and change. While this mess was still a lifeless void all things considered, colors, shapes, and matter of all kinds claimed dominance over the blank white slate of before.

The Figure observed this new realm of Their making, basking in this impossible feat They managed to bring into existence. But the Primordial Entity was far from content. Yes, the void had form now. It was more than just an empty nothingness, shining with dead bright light. But it wasn't enough. What was the point of having all this matter and form to change if They were the only one who could alter it? That was just a waste of potential-

The Entity then had a thought.

It was a small thought at first, sitting in the back of the Figure's head as They toyed with the matter They created. What if, there were more Figures to change everything around Them. What if They could make something better than this by having more of.... more of others like Them. The Entity paused, Their robes flowing as They considered this idea. They were the only one of Them to exist, They knew that much for certain. They would have met another Being like Them by now, and there was no way to make another Entity like them from strands of hair and sheer willpower.

The Figure observed Their hands, silently considering the options available to Them. Perhaps.... perhaps the Entity could make something similar to Themselves, since an identical copy was impossible. Yes... the Figure could take parts of Themself and use it to make something New, something that could fulfil Their dream of having a living, changing world. Of course there needed to be multiple new beings, as the Entity was all too familiar with the despair of loneliness. There should be two, so they could balance each other and stay true to Their original vision. Since... since They wouldn't be fully there to see it to fruition.

The Entity steadied itself, resolve found and choice determined.

Two formless figures stood amongst the rubble and matter of the world they had been violently birthed into. One entity hosted thousands of golden, cold critical eyes; it was accompanied by a entity with an equally abundant number of dark excited eyes, alight with inspiration. The golden figure called themselves Kybelle, and their sole purpose was to bring the Dream of the Original to fruition. They were to, somehow, take this mess of tangled threads and weave a beautiful tapestry of Creation. The darker figure claimed the identity of Raygar, and their sole purpose was to cause change and demolition, to provide the tools to create by using Destruction. The dark one was to keep the universe from settling into an uninvolving status quo, and while doing so, provide their light encompassed sibling with reclaimed matter to repurpose, to keep the cycle going forever.

Creation cannot happen without Destruction, as they are two halves of the same whole.

These Divine Twins are credited with shaping and forming the universe as we know it today. It was under their will that our planets, stars, galaxies, and suns were brought forth. With Kybelle weaving the threads together and Raygar fraying them in order to be used again, they birthed a beautiful universe which had no equal. The past days of the endless empty white void were long over.

But there was one thing the Duo had yet to realize, and this discovery would flip their creation entirely on its head.

When the Original had given up Their existence and Form in order to create the Twins from the pieces of Their Self, they hadn't accounted for the potential of left over Parts. While eons had passed since the Original's great sacrifice, trace amounts of Their Being were scattered like dust across the cosmos from the violent birth of Kybelle and Raygar. These indiscernible broken fragments floated through all of creation, till at some point they began to draw towards each other. The small specks had an ingrained magnetic drive between them, an undeniable pull to be whole again. The conglomerate of specks soon grew larger and larger with each lost piece found, til at last a new creature was born.

Oryn was what he called himself, and he took the appearance of a magnificent golden Gryphon. He was made from the lost residue of the Original, and due to this he was not a complete being. He wasn't intended to be made in the first place. As such, He hosted an empty feeling of incompleteness. Oryn needed to feel whole, to feel complete, and like the specks he was birthed from, he was instinctively drawn to other remnant's of the Original. The magnificent feathered beast quickly identified two strong presences that felt... uncannily familiar, and began the journey to reunite with his lost brethren.

Kybelle and Raygar were amazed when this impossible creation finally appeared to them, quickly feeling a strong kinship with the winged beast. All these creatures were birthed from the destruction of one sole Other. The Original formed the Divine Twins to fulfill Their grand purpose, fully aware this ambition would cause Them to cease to exist.

Yet They did it anyway.

And despite those odds, a piece of Them, even if half formed, somehow managed to remain.

These three children of the Original banded together, Oryn drawn to the Familiar Presence the Divine Twins gave off, and the Twins equally drawn by the magnificent Gryphon's Mystical Aura. Due to this, the Twins physical appearance began to subtly change, their formless essences' shaping into something more solid. They sprouted pairs of majestic feathered wings, Kybelle's palette taking a glowing white and gold tone, while Raygar was drawn dark shades of opalescent onyx and black pitch.

Traveling the universe, these three beings birthed from the Original fulfilled Their vision. The Trio made countless worlds, keeping each other content, till Oryn realized something. Their Creator wanted to fill the formerly empty void, yes this way true, but They also wanted other creatures to influence and change that world. Sure, Raygar, Kybelle, and even Oryn could influence and cause this change, but not on the scale the Original truly dreamed of.

This universe was still an empty void, hosting little life, even if it was full of matter and form.

The burnt gold Gryphon singled out a near-by planet, eyeing it critically before descending and pacing the surface. He trilled as he observed the potential for life, chittering to himself as he began to scrape rough forms out of clay and earth on the banks of a river. Soon the Gryphon had countless sculpted figures lining the riverbank as he slowed his work, taking in the sight. With a cry as strong as thunder, he screeched to the heavens, wishing to attract the attention of the near-by Twins.

Oryn paused in his celebration, his figures of mud and dirt still could not move and act on their own, they weren't actually alive. Considering this, the Gryphon took several steps back before concentrating deeply, summoning forth spare traces of the Original he could survive without. Eyes aflame with purpose, Oryn launched the trace amounts of Mystical Aura into the clay figures surrounding him. After a heavy moment of stillness, the mud cracked and began to shudder.

When Kybelle and Raygar landed to join their lost feathered companion, they were shocked by the sight that greeted them upon arrival. On the bank of the river, countless half clay, half living oddities were tumbling around Oryn as he tried to herd the chaotic golems into a manageable state. Churring at the Twins, the Gryphon asked for assistance as the two beings of Creation and Destruction summoned their abilities.

A blinding flash overtook the scene, silence weighing heavy as the three beings' eyes adjusted to the change in light.

Due to this direct connection with the gods that we mortals were created by, we were blessed with their ability to change the world around us. We can influence and alter our world, just as the Original dreamed of eons ago, while living under the watchful eyes of the Divine Twins and Oryn. This was a gift, and we took it in stride, learning from our creators while we slowly gained knowledge over the god-like power we call Arcana.

Arcana is what gave us mortals the breath that is life, it's what pulled us out of the muck and mud we were first birthed in. It is what gave us dominion over the world. It's the lifeblood of the gods, what the Original sacrificed to form the Twins when They tore Themselves in two. Kybelle and Raygar were the very embodiment of this Raw Arcana, they are the vessels that acts of Creation and Destruction encompass. And Oryn, the creation that wasn't intended to exist, was our direct link to the Original.

As us mortals began to unlock the complexities of Arcana, our inner magic began to take physical Form in the world.

Dæmons are a reflection of this very principle, they are mortal's soul siblings, our magic given Form, they are us in the purest Arcane sense. It is common knowledge that Dæmons are an animal-esq representation of our magic, a familiar devoted solely to their host, their master. It's an irrefutable bond, nay, an unbreakable bond we humans share with our Dæmons.

As we mortals are the creation of the gods themselves, it was only fitting that our acts of Arcana birthed new life in a similar way. Oryn was the personification of the Original's extra Arcana, and Dæmons are the human version of that very relationship. That is why we refer to Oryn as the god of Dæmons. He was the first version of that kinship, a Dæmon who tragically lost his Host, his Master.

He was, after all, an unintentional creation.

With our Arcane mastery, we mortals grew in power and influence. Kybelle and Raygar quickly realized assistance would be needed to guide us. Mortals were just that... mortal, we were brought forth from the earth, and we eventually return to it. We could not live indefinitely as the Divine did, but our souls and Arcana did not just suddenly disappear after our death. Those holy pieces were given to us by the gods after all. The attention needed to sustain life was all encompassing, and the twins still had the rest of the universe to balance, not one small sole planet blossoming with the human race. How could the Divine manage the universal cycle of Creation and Destruction, and all Mortals.

Summoning their power, the Twins brought forth Sōnyae and Lūnrae, Sister Goddesses who balanced the scales of Life and Death. Sōnyae, our Lady of The Dawn, watched over us from her kingdom in the Sun, waking each living creature with the Ember of Life. Lūnrae was charged as The Keeper of Souls, ruling the worlds of the afterlife from her three moons. She would greet us mortals with our final embrace, welcoming us into her realm as a safe harbor welcomes a weary ship, returning our smoldering embers to her sister so the cycle continued ever onward.

With the Sisters dedicated to watching over the mortals of Terr-Oryn, the Divine Twins returned to their original positions of overseeing the universe, balancing the cycle of Creation and Destruction as the Original intended. Oryn would frequently accompany them, but every so often would stray away to catch glimpses of his part of Creation. The Gryphon watched in wonder as we mortals and Dæmons mastered the environment around us, delighting in his contribution to his Master's vision, excitedly reporting back to the twins. But as we mortals continued to advance and progress, the Original Trinity realized something troubling.

Mortals and Dæmons were adaptable and flexible, they could summon the very magic used to create them and shape it into something new. The Original magic which birthed humanity evolved into a new state. And so, the Original Trinity added another divine into their fold, Bronn The Sage. He was our First Magister, presiding over all acts of the Arcane and magic. He guided us in our pursuit of the mystical arts, and helped us achieve our fullest potential.

We began to stray from the Original Plan.

We needed more guidance, more structure. Mortals needed assistance to help determine when Order was needed, or Chaos, and the Knowledge to distinguish as such. Divine intervention was needed, again.

This time, our ever wise gods brought forth conscious personifications of these three core principles, adding more individuals to their heavenly ring. Ey-gon The All Seeing, Merkron The Chancellor, and Nozume The Trickster. These three Eikons directed us back towards the Original's Plan. Divine intervention and godly guidance from afar was the way of the immortals as we Terr-Oryns were left to mold the earth we had been charged with, under our gods' ever watchful eyes.

The Original Trinity was the most distanced, focused on minding the balance of the universe. The Original's plan for the universe was a vast one, and that balance needed constant attention. The Twins and Oryn couldn't spare more energy than what was already given. Terr-Oryns and mortals were to be guided, foremostly, by the Ascended Divines.

Sōnyae and Lūnrae had been attending to us mortals since their inception. The Twin Goddesses are present for our birth and death. They are the two Divines we all share direct contact with, from our very first breath. Their relationship with us is absolute. Ey-gon, Master of Seekers, followed close behind by giving us the spark of intelligence. He fostered our desire for knowledge, and elevated our advancement to even greater heights. Merkron, The Breaker of Chains, and Nozume, The Master of Illusions, embodied the delicate balance that is Order and Chaos. Acts of justice and harmony were watched over by Merkron; as he was the light that illuminated the darkness. While whims of spontaneous nature and trickery were influenced by Nozume, as he played host to the shadows that made life worth living.

It happened so quickly -- the destruction of the world.

In what seemed like seconds, the entire world was ablaze.

As we mortals, yet again, invented something new.

War.

The Ascended Divine were appalled, not understanding how this could have happened. We were all children of the Original, here to bring Their Plan into fruition, not kill each other where we stood. They tried to stop us, to save us from our own self destruction, but our ancestors were too blinded by their own self righteousness. Mortals were determined to prove themselves the true heirs of Terr-Oryn over other rival groups. We rolled like pigs in the muck, trading blood for blood, and wrong for wrong.

The records of who struck first, let alone over what, have been lost to time. Our legacies -- books, works of art, ancient wonders of the world, entire histories collected since our creation -- were but a small portion of the casualties claimed by this brutal slaughter. Countless lives were lost over worthless posturing, and this is where our gods, in a desperate plea, tried to intervene.

A Dæmon could not live without it's mortal host -- this was common knowledge. When a mortal died, their Dæmon followed instantaneously. However, at this point in time, Dæmons seemed to be indestructible. They were easily summoned back when injured or harmed, never the worse for wear, and with little to no harm done to the human host. This precedent soon changed, when the Ascended Divine called for the assistance of the Original Trinity in order to save humanity from itself.

For the first time since the birth of mortals, the entire Divine Pantheon were gathered together on Terr-Oryn. They walked once again on the same ground as us, appearing directly to the warring factions. Eyes grave and cold, they all extended their hands as a sliver of Arcana was ripped forth from every mortal present, the energy redirected to Oryn as he flared his burnt gold wings.

The sky grew dark while thunder rumbled, the battlefield deathly quiet. Each mortal was daring the other to move first in the stillness. Suddenly, a single arrow whistled out of the sky and struck a random Dæmon, it let out a pained cry of pure agony. A moment passed, then the human host mimicked his wounded Dæmon's actions. Both creatures began writhing on the ground, frothing from the mouth, eyes rolled back while shrieking their shared pain to the sky. It seemed to go on forever, til the Dæmon eventually ceased to move. It's corpse shuddered one last time, then dissolved into fine silvery dust, swiftly carried away with the wind.

The human counterpart shakily got to their feet, breathing heavily as they attempted to summon their Dæmon forth. Only for nothing to happen.

They tried again -- still nothing.

The mortal fell to their knees, stunned silence followed as for the first time in their life, they realized they were truly alone. The mortified onlookers gapped in horror as the new reality set in. Dæmons were no longer invulnerable, and if a mortal wasn't careful, they could lose one half of their being.

By the time mortals gathered their senses, the Divine had vanished from Terr-Oryn. Hoping their punishment would cause the warring factions to stop.

While we had settled quietly for a moment, stupefied by our new reality, we soon were at each other's throats again. We dove headfirst into our obsession, crafting new ways to better slaughter each other while trying to protect our now mortal familiars. We had not learned our lesson, each faction citing their rivals as the cause of punishment from the gods. We were still hellbent on self destruction in the pursuit of glory and domination.

Terr-Oryn itself must have felt the shift of the scales, our wildly violent natures being fully displayed, for the earth began to freeze. The temperature was dropping, the waters froze solid, snow rained from the sky constantly as the war slowed from the elements. We stared, stupefied as the earth reacted to our actions, publicly condemning us as it grew colder and colder.

We were dying by the thousands, innumerable victims lost to the cold, as we cried out for a savior.

Taeral was the answer to our desperate prayer.

She was the one who balanced the scales, the goddess of seasons, the maiden of our hearts. She was birthed into our coldest despair and by her grace, warmed us to the bone. Her smile of compassion thawed the frozen grip of our own self destruction as the world of Terr-Oryn blossomed into a new and beautiful spring.

Accompanying her was Húsvle, the Guardian, and Anami, the Mistress. The god of the hearth and the goddess of the wilds respectively. It was under their guidance the world blossomed into it's second chance, it's second age. Húsvle was there as we tried to reclaim the knowledge and civilization we lost to the Great Doctrine War, as Anami helped the natural world recover from our self destruction.

However my children, let me leave you with a warning.

We are less powerful than our ancestors, we had to pay for their crimes against the Original. Our magic, our Arcana, is far less potent than it used to be, our Dæmons are mortal. If we were to repeat the tragedy of before, we would never survive it.

Thank the stars for the Caledonian Empire, the great construct that Husvle himself assisted in building as we recovered from the Great Freeze. The Empire is what united us, gave us purpose, showed us the true meaning of life on Terr-Oryn. We now know our place and the part we are to play in the Original's Plan. It took centuries for the continent to be united, but at last we all are one, looking to the sky as the banner of Caledonia flies high above us.

But the fight is never over my dear ones, there will always be dissent among the people, selfish individuals who think they know better than the very gods who birthed us, who created our home, our way of life. Why do you think our powers grow weaker every year, why the energy crisis is at an all time high. We must stay united, we must serve our Throne of Roses, or we will only fall into a despair we could never hope to recover from.

But hope is not lost my children, we must always have hope. There is a place, a place we have recently discovered, where the magic is strong and the resources are plenty. A proverbial land of milk and honey, a land we can use to save our Empire. We must steady our hearts and take a journey into the unknown, for the sake of our country, for the sake of each other, for the sake of the Original and all that is holy.