Before the first breath of creation, before even the gods had names... three beings walked across the void.
Not as rulers. Not even as parts of the void.
The void was a part of them.
They were not born. They were not forged by destiny, divinity, or desire. They simply were. And always had been. They were the only constants in the formless silence before time's conception. No stars shone. No thoughts stirred. Just the Absolute Three—known only in hushed myth as the Trideva.
They did not speak. They did not quarrel. They did not agree. They simply existed in perfect unison, like one soul stretched across three bodies. One essence flowing in eternal harmony.
Then, from stillness came thought. From thought, will. And from will, creation.
They reached into the infinite silence and sculpted Existence.
Galaxies bloomed like fireworks in slow motion. Planets spun into being, stars lit the heavens, and time began to tick. They breathed form into chaos, gave rhythm to the random, meaning to the meaningless. They created Mortals. Immortals. Celestials. And then, they gave birth to power.
But this was no ordinary force. No fire or water, no light or dark. It was something deeper, something that defied even the hierarchy of divine command.
They called it Antambha.
A power that was both beginning and end.
A force so raw, so unrestricted, that even beings above gods trembled in its presence. It wasn't light or dark, order or chaos. It was the concept of contradiction itself. Creation that could erase itself. A being that was not a being. A question with no answer.
And yet—the Trideva felt no fear.
For they were beyond fear. Beyond emotion. They had no reason to doubt their creation.
But the gods and their successors did.
As eons passed and civilizations formed, prayers echoed across creation. Pleas from gods and immortals alike filled the divine realm:
*"Forbid it. Banish it. Hide it. Lock it away."
"We fear what it may become."
For the first time in the tapestry of existence, the Absolute Beings felt something foreign. Not fear. Not remorse. But empathy.
And so, the Trideva sealed Antambha. Not destroyed. Not killed. Just forgotten. Like a chapter never written, like a thought never thought.
A Mahakalpa passed. A cycle so long that even galaxies forgot how to count its years. And in the stillness of oblivion...
The power stirred.
Antambha began to wonder.
What am I?
Why was I created?
Why was I sealed?
Do I not have the right... to exist?
And then, a voice spoke.
Sweet. Deep. Commanding. Like a lullaby spoken by thunder.
"You are not a weapon. Not a force. You are a living being. You are both beginning and end. You are more than they feared."
And then silence.
No face. No name. No source.
But for the first time, Antambha felt.
Warmth.
Flesh.
Limbs. A heartbeat. A shape. A soul.
And tears.
Tears of realization. Of emotion. Of life.
The power had become a person.
Then, the divine prison trembled. Runes shattered. Chains dissolved. And from the void between worlds, a portal bloomed.
Antambha escaped.
Elsewhere, in a world blessed by gods but plagued by their silence, life continued as always. Cities stood tall. Kings ruled. Peace reigned—on the surface.
But under the sheen of order festered injustice.
Inequality.
Blind violence masked as justice. Cowards cheered as innocents suffered. And those with divine favor grew drunk on power.
This world was governed by the gift of the gods: a power known as Tatvansh.
A fragment of the divine elements granted to a chosen few.
The bearers of Tatvansh—called Ansh—could bend fire, shape water, mold earth, whisper to the wind, and command the void. Those who trained it could not just use the elements—they could become them. They could create from nothing. Erase at will. Rule by divine right.
But all of that would change.
Because something ancient had awakened. Something sealed before time could name it.
And it no longer questioned its right to exist.
It was no longer just power.
It was Antambha.
And as its first step echoed across forgotten planes, the Trideva, watching from the realm beyond realms, did not move.
For they knew.
The Age of Divine Nothing had begun.